Keep On Getting Closer
by Amalgam000
Summary: She believes he is pushing her away, he is in fact keeping her closest. An unresolved case comes back to haunt Emily, though she's not the only one affected by it. Hotch is also fighting his own share of demons and unwanted feelings. H/P angst/romance
1. Prologue

Title: Keep on Getting Closer

Summary: She believes he is pushing her away, he is in fact keeping her closest. An unresolved case comes back to haunt Emily, though she's not the only one affected by it. Hotch is also fighting his own share of demons and unwanted feelings.

Category: Hotch/Prentiss-centric UST/Romance, mystery, suspense, casefile.

Rating: M (Strong but non-explicit adult themes, violence (especially towards the end), coarse language and sexual innuendos)

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, or any of the characters, except for Steve Norland, but he's a psycho, so you can have him. Also the title and first line of the summary was inspired by The XX song 'Crystalised.'

Author's notes: I started working on this story _months_ ago, basically before the end of season 5, so needless to say it has become AU because of the presence or absence of certain characters (I miss you JJ!). For some reason I've been suffering a bad case of writer's block that has lasted something like 7 months, so I'm posting this way later than I first anticipated. In any case, I hope you enjoy! The story's kind of long, but I'll try posting it fairly quickly, so that you don't have to suffer any of those annoying cliffhangers that we love to hate (or hate to love?) ;-)

Spoilers and timeline: set sometime during late season 5 (definitely before season 6), with some more specific references to episodes 2x06 (the Boogeyman), 5x09 (100) and 5x10 (Slave of Duty).

Also, this story has not been beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes!

* * *

Prologue

Marcel Proust once wrote: "The opinions which we hold of one another, our relations with friends and kinsfolk are in no sense permanent, save in appearance, but are as eternally fluid as the sea itself."

Emily's blood was pounding so loudly in her ear, she barely heard the constant chatter in her earpiece. They had officers and dogs patrolling all over the property, there was no way the UnSub could get away, just no way! But there was still one problem; _he_ probably knew he was trapped and there was no predicting what he would do to the woman still in his clutches. What did a cornered wolf do to its prey? Emily felt dread permeate every pore of her body at the thought.

"Any sign of Cassandra Bolton?" Morgan asked at her side as she carefully peaked through the dusty window of the old and crumbling shed.

Emily shook her head in disappointment. Cassandra was the UnSub's most recent victim, but they were still counting on her being alive. She _had _to still be alive. "Negative. She's not in there." Waiting for Morgan's signal, she pushed the door open and he marched in, his gun raised, Emily hot on his heels. As expected, the shed was empty of people, but the place was cramped with stuff. As Emily looked closer, her flashlight roaming over the chaos of various farm implements, her eye caught something.

"Hey Morgan, check it out. One of the murder weapons?" she asked as she aimed her flashlight at the pitchfork that lied on top of a pile of shovels.

Morgan followed the light and approached the pile, taking off his sunglasses in the process. "Sure looks like it, I'm gonna tell Hotch and get CSU in here." He walked out, and Emily could hear his muffled voice coming from outside as she continued her search inside the shed. As far as she could tell it was just random equipment and except for the pile that she'd already pointed out to Morgan, nothing else seemed overtly suspicious.

She was looking through the contents of a toolbox when the air seemed to shift around her to complete stillness. She tensed and kept still, straining her ear, but she could only hear Morgan's voice outside and the eerie sound of old wood cracking as the breeze hit the walls of the shed. Emily had learned to trust her instincts long ago, but maybe the sudden weighty stillness around her was just a horrific trick of her imagination?

Carefully standing to her feet, her hand reached for her gun as she slowly stepped closer to the door. She could see Morgan outside a few feet away, still talking with his back to her. Apparently his conversation wasn't going so well, as he kept shaking his head and raking a frustrated hand through absent hair.

Just as she was about to call out his name he hung up and, at that precise moment, Emily saw a dark silhouette running from behind the shed and right into Morgan's back, slamming him into the ground and swinging something against the back of his head. He landed with a forceful whoof, but didn't fight back as his attacker jerked him around and hit him square in the face with his fist. Emily sprung into action, raising her gun and stepping outside, staying close to the door.

"Freeze, FBI!" she yelled and she was surprised when the man actually stopped and slowly straightened up over Morgan's unconscious body. "Hands on your head Norland, slowly." The man obeyed her, to her own amazement, but she didn't approach him yet.

She quickly called for backup on her radio and took a couple of steps closer, sparing just enough attention to make the call. Once reassured that backup was on the way, her eyes darted towards Morgan, but he seemed to be breathing evenly, so she focused back her attention to the man kneeling beside her colleague's body: Steven Norland, sadistic sociopath. They had been chasing him for four days, and there he finally was, on his knees and heads behind his head. Walking closer still, her gun steadily pointing at his back, she finally got close enough to handcuff him. Always alert, Emily reached for her cuffs with her left hand, but as she made to grab his left wrist, he suddenly shifted and his movement was so swift that Emily didn't get a chance to react. A second later, he was standing and had switched their positions so that she found herself in front of him, his arm across her throat and his body pressing into her back. She tried fighting, but his hold on her tightened mercilessly in response. He laughed and Emily fought a shudder at the sound.

"You thought you had me, huh pretty Emily? You thought you were better than me, didn't you Emily?" he whispered in her ear. Emily tried to stay calm and assess the situation; help was on the way, so she only had to stall him long enough for the cavalry to show up.

Emily snorted in response to his taunting. "Ah come on Steven, you _know_ I am smarter than you."

She felt him shake his head. "I don't think so. Because I'm gonna walk away, and you and your genius friends will never, ever find me," he whispered slowly. Emily thought she could hear police officers calling back and forth and dogs barking in the distance, so she kept stalling.

"You know I love a good challenge, but even _I_ know it's too late, Steven. You're a done deal, history."

He chuckled again, and for a horrific second she felt him get closer and breathe in her hair. She closed her eyes in disgust, fighting with all her being to stay calm and not show her panic. "You're breaking my heart, pretty Emily," he said overdramatically, but just as he spoke, he grabbed her wrists and yanked her arms behind her back, where he used her own handcuffs on her. He spun her around sharply and Emily tensed at the smirk on his face. He could have been a handsome man, but the look in his eyes, that one look chilled her to her bones with its calculating intelligence and viciousness.

"Too bad I can't stay and have some fun, pretty Emily," he said as his eyes traveled down her neck to her chest, "but who knows, maybe we'll meet again."

He took a forceful hold of ponytail and yanked her head back, making her gasp in pain.

"Wherever you go, I'll find you, you son of bitch, I swear to God!" she spat.

He shook his head, still smirking. "Not before I find you first. And I will." He stroked the side of her face and neck with his knuckles and Emily jerked away. He laughed as he took a step back. "Until we meet again, pretty Emily."

Before she even could see it coming, his fist or his elbow, she couldn't be sure, hit her cheekbone, and the blow was forceful enough to make her stagger back. With her hands bound together behind her she couldn't regain her balance so she fell on her back, hitting her head on the ground as she landed. When she opened her eyes again a second later he was gone.

"We're gonna get your ass, you son of a bitch!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. Her head was pounding and spinning with the shock and pain of her fall, so she closed her eyes again, trying to control her breathing and fight the nausea that assaulted her.

A chorus of 'Prentiss', 'Morgan' and 'Agents' with varying degrees of concern made her open her eyes again a few moments later. Seconds? Minutes? She had lost track. As she forced her eyes open she found herself looking right into Hotch's concerned face.

"Prentiss, are you alright?" he asked as he leaned over her, taking his sunglasses off and scanning her to assess for injuries.

Emily nodded quickly, but then stopped at the hammer pounding against her skull. "I'm fine, go after him! We have to get him!"

She saw him gesture to someone over his shoulder, but instead of going after Norland he calmly returned his attention to her. "Prentiss, you're bleeding. Hold on," he looked over his shoulder again. "I need a medic over here!"

"Hotch I'm fin- Morgan! Morgan's unconscious, you have to take care of him, make sure he's okay!" she mumbled and for a second she couldn't understand why Hotch was so damn calm, his hands on her shoulders firmly preventing her from sitting up, while he should be running after that son of a bitch, or making sure Morgan was alright.

"It's okay, Prentiss, we've got Morgan. Dave's right there with him, he's gonna be fine."

A paramedic knelt down next to her head and Emily winced as he touched a sensitive spot on her left cheekbone. "We have to get him Hotch," she said as she closed her eyes against the stinging pain of alcohol disinfecting the scratch on her cheek.

"We will. Where are the keys to your handcuffs?"

"No you don't understand. We _have_ to get him, Hotch."

That seemed to get his attention as his intense gaze sharply met hers and for the first time he seemed to actually pay attention to what she was saying. "Did he hurt you?" he asked bluntly, but she could see dread and rage in the tightness of his jaw.

"No, but we need him to tell us where Cassandra Bolton is, we need to-"

"We don't need him for that Prentiss, we've found her." He glanced up at the medic, who was still assessing her injuries, feeling what felt like every bone in her body. "Is it safe for her to sit up?" Hotch asked, not paying attention to Emily's surprised expression.

"What? You found her? Is she alright?"

"Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem," the medic replied in answer to Hotch's question.

"She didn't make it," Hotch replied, once back returning his attention to Emily. "Let me help you sit up." With supporting hands on her shoulders and back he pulled her up gently, and Emily closed her eyes for a second as blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. Leaning over he unlocked her handcuffs without Emily realizing where he had actually got the keys from, and she rotated her shoulders and massaged her wrists to release the strain.

"Thanks."

"What happened?" he asked as he leaned back on his heels, still looking at her with concern. She'd often seen that exact expression on his face during interviews with victims, as if he was bracing himself for some horrible story. But Emily refused to consider herself a victim.

"He must have been waiting for us somewhere around here. He knocked Morgan unconscious, and when I went to handcuff him…" Emily paused, ashamed that Norland had managed to overpower her so easily. "Hotch we have to catch him."

He seemed to search her gaze for a few seconds, then pursed his lips in determination. "We will. We know who he is now, how he thinks. But Prentiss, whatever happens, you're going to have to learn to let it go."

Emily looked back at him. "I know that Hotch. Really." She had seen what making it too personal had done to Gideon and Hotch himself, and even Dave to a lesser extent. She didn't want to live that way, with a constant fear and guilt eating at your insides.

He nodded and helped her stand as he himself rose to his feet. "Good. Let's take you back to the station."

Emily nodded and, as she slowly walked alongside Hotch, promised herself that she wouldn't let what had just happened and Steven Norland get under her skin, nor into her head. At that moment, she followed Hotch's advice, and took the first step towards letting it go.

She didn't look back.


	2. Part 1

Keep On Getting Closer Part 1

* * *

Carl Jung once said: Where love rules, there is no will to power and where power predominates, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.

7 months later

Emily was having one of those mornings when everything seemed to go wrong; first she'd gone back to sleep after turning her alarm clock off without realizing, then waking up in a panic a few minutes later she'd run into the shower only to find that the heater wasn't working properly, and then she'd spilled coffee on her white blouse just as she was about ready to leave so that she had had to change.

Definitely one of _those _mornings.

She ran to her car to limit rain damage to her straightened hair and started driving, intent on getting to the BAU in time despite the bad morning, rain and traffic. After a while, her cell beeped and, curious, she grabbed and snapped it open, all the while trying to keep her eyes on the road.

It was a text message from Hotch, asking her if she was on her way.

Not wanting to risk getting into an accident – it was definitely that kind of morning – Emily shut her phone again and kept driving. She would be there soon anyway.

It beeped again a few minutes later. Another text from Hotch, this time ordering her to respond ASAP. Emily sighed in frustration and looked at the clock. She wasn't even late yet, what was wrong with the universe this morning? She dialed JJ's number.

"Emily!"

"JJ, I'm on my way, tell Hotch I'll be there in a few minutes."

"You're okay," JJ said and Emily frowned at the relief in her friend's voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine- JJ what's going on?"

"Em, just… just hurry."

"Alright," Emily replied, curious and apprehensive, but knowing that if JJ could tell her over the phone, she would. "Give me a few minutes."

She hung up and focused on the road once more, so that a few minutes later she entered the BAU, just like she'd promised. What she didn't expect was the strange looks of her coworkers as she stepped in; Morgan walking quickly over to her with a grave expression, Reid standing from his desk with a strange worried look on his face, and then Garcia pushing Morgan out of the way to envelop her in a fierce hug.

"Whoa!" Emily said as she returned the hug lightly. "Guys, what's going on?" she asked over Garcia's shoulder.

"Prentiss!" she heard Hotch's voice bellow from the landing, "in my office, now!"

Emily frowned as she stepped past her teammates. She met Hotch's undecipherable gaze across the bullpen and then Dave's, who was leaning against the handrail. The latter's small smile of encouragement somewhat reassured her, just as much as it puzzled her. What had she done to provoke Hotch's wrath and her friends' worry?

Bracing herself, she joined Hotch and followed him into his office. He closed the door behind her.

"Hotch, what's going on?" she asked as he turned his attention on her.

"Are you alright?"

That took her aback for a second. But only for a second. "Damn it Hotch, I'm fine, what's going on?"

He gazed at her for a few seconds, as if debating with himself whether he should tell her, but then made up his mind and moved to retrieve an envelope from his desk. "We received these in the mail."

Emily looked up in puzzlement as she took the envelope from him, but he didn't say anything, so she just opened it and pulled out what was inside.

And then she frowned. They were pictures of her, six of them in total, except that those pictures had been taken without her realizing it. Someone was stalking her? Emily felt her stomach knot painfully as she started looking at them more carefully. In one of them she was standing behind a crime scene tape with Morgan, obviously at work, but the photographer had circled her head in black marker; in another she was exiting her car at the grocery store; in yet another she was outside her gym and talking on her cellphone; in another she was walking up the steps to her apartment building, and the last two… made her gasp. They had both been taken through her apartment windows; on one she was cooking dinner in her kitchen, and the last one showed her in her bedroom, in the process of pulling a sweater over her head, showing way too much skin and underwear for her taste.

Her legs gave away from under her and she dropped into a chair. "Oh my God! Who exactly did you say got these?"

Hotch was still frowning as she looked up, but there was definite concern in his expression. "We all got one. David, JJ, Morgan, Garcia, Reid, myself. They were delivered express this morning. Whoever sent these knew enough about us to know our morning routines. He wanted us to have them before we left for work."

Emily was beyond words, so she merely shook her head in confusion.

"Prentiss, are you sure you haven't noticed anything suspicious before today? A feeling that you were observed, maybe?"

She shook her head as she met his gaze again. "No! No, I haven't noticed anything. No suspicious gifts or letters or anything!"

"Okay," he nodded. "You know I had to ask."

"Of course." She nodded, until an alarming idea came to mind. "I've never seen that behavior from a stalker, have you? A stalker that alerts his victim's friends that he's watching her? That makes no sense."

He shook his head and leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's why I don't think we're dealing with a stalker. These aren't stalking pictures, I think they're a warning. To us, and to you."

Emily blinked. "A warning… that what? He's watching me? That he wants me dead?"

Hotch looked down at her question, but then pushed himself from his desk. "Let's gather the team, build a profile. Look through our cases to see who could have a grudge both against us as a team, and you personally."

Emily nodded, but as she tried rising to her feet, she found her legs shaking so much that she fell back. She tried to hide her sudden weakness, but Hotch saw right through her and was at her side in a second, gently taking the pictures from her hands and sitting in the chair next to hers. Close enough to show his support but far enough to remain professional. Emily was always amazed at his capacity never to cross that fine line.

"We're going to find whoever's behind this," he said, leaning his forearms on his thighs.

She met his gaze and at that moment she felt compelled to believe him. "I know," she said, drawing some resolve from his gaze. Her friends were some of the smartest people in the country, if anyone could figure this out, they would. And nobody beat Hotch in the relentlessness department.

Hotch nodded, holding her gaze for a few more seconds, until he looked down at the envelope between his fingers. "I realize this is a lot to take in, but we need to discuss some security issues."

"You really think these are serious?" Emily asked as she pointed to the envelope, half hoping that he would give her the reassuring answer, even if it wasn't the truth.

"I don't know, but I don't want to take any chances. You'll be safe as long as you're at the BAU, but whoever sent these definitely knows where you live. Do you have anyone you could stay with?"

Emily considered it for a second; her closest friends worked at the BAU and were known to the UnSub, so she shook her head. That only left… Her eyes widened in horror at the thought of having to actually live with her again. Having lunch or dinner was one thing, but to actually live under the same roof?

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her expression. "Prentiss?"

Emily cleared her throat. "I could probably call my mother?" she said with a painful expression, half hoping that he would save her and decree it a bad idea for security reasons.

She narrowed her eyes when she saw him trying to bite back a smile. "Good," was all he said. "In the meantime, we'll book you a hotel room for tonight and escort you there. I'll have JJ and Morgan go to your place and bring you back whatever you'll need for the next few days. We'll have a security detail keep an eye on you as well, and you shouldn't go anywhere by yourself."

"Oka- Oh crap!"

"What?"

"I just- I'm going to have to cancel my date tonight," she said, feeling awkward at her disclosure. This was just something that she did not discuss with Hotch.

A funny expression crossed his face for a moment, but then he blinked and it was gone. "I'm afraid so. Of course you understand that we'll also need his contact information."

Emily nodded reluctantly. She knew these were standard procedures, so she fought back the desire to argue that this was too much and that she could take care of herself. She knew that Hotch would have none of it anyway; he was very protective of his own, and particularly so since his own ordeal at the hands of Foyet, and at the moment she was only grateful that he considered her as one of his people. When had she become an integral part of the team in his eyes, she wondered? They'd had a rocky start in the trust department, but she felt fairly confident that he completely trusted her now. Had it begun when she had quit because she refused to spy on him? Or later?

Emily laughed humorlessly and she leaned her forehead against her hand. "God I knew this was going to be a bad day."

He smiled thinly in response.

"But thanks," she added gratefully.

His gaze softened. "You're a member of this team, Prentiss, and no one messes with this team without facing the consequences."

She smiled. "Very dramatic, thank you."

He looked down at her teasing, but the tiny smile was still present. "Now, let's go meet the others and get this over with."

* * *

Hours later, they were all still buried under piles of folders, ingesting too much caffeine and arguing loudly as to what the profile should be. The team had agreed with Hotch that this wasn't 'normal' sexual stalker behavior, but rather actions based on revenge. But since they had no other clues as to his motives and since Emily was his only known target, they couldn't actually propose a solid profile. They couldn't rule out that someone already in jail could hire somebody outside to do their dirty work for them either, so that the pile that they had to go through was depressingly high.

"Hey guys, you remember the Nashville killer?" Reid suddenly asked, catching everyone's attention.

Morgan nodded. "Hell yeah. You arrested the guy, didn't you Emily?"

Emily nodded as Reid offered her the file. "Yes I did."

"The Nashville killer?" Hotch asked, looking confused.

Emily passed the file over to him. "Yeah, it was one of those cases you missed while you were on leave. He was a stalker who made women act out his romantic fantasies. When it went too far for them and they stopped playing, he killed them."

"This sounds like it could fit our profile," Dave said. "Let's move it to the viable suspect pile."

"Yeah, he certainly got to me," Emily agreed.

Morgan snickered. "That's an understatement."

"Oh come on, I might have gotten a little carried away, but I wasn't _that_ out of control," Emily retorted.

"Let's focus, please," Hotch quietly reprimanded. "I think I've found one that fits our profile even better," he said as he handed the folder to her.

Emily opened it and sighed. "Steven Norland. I sincerely hoped never to see that name again."

"For my part I wouldn't mind a little rematch," Morgan said under his breath.

"Steven Norland, he escaped, didn't he?" JJ asked.

Hotch nodded. "Yes he did."

"Yeah, and he did say he would find me again," Emily said.

"That's not in your report," Reid pointed out.

Emily looked up and found five pairs of eyes staring at her. "What?"

"You didn't mention that in your report," Hotch repeated. Emily wasn't sure why but she felt like a teenager about to get reprimanded for getting home too late. "What else did he say that you didn't report?"

"I don't remember."

"Emily, come on, you don't forget something like that," Morgan pressed.

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but Rossi beat her to it. "That's not important right now, we still have other suspects, let's move on, shall we?" he tossed the file onto the 'viable' pile.

Everyone returned to their respective folders, but Emily could feel Hotch's gaze on her. She was well aware that she hadn't reported the whole conversation, but at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. What Norland had said to her, it wasn't something that she wished others to know. But now that she was busted, it was only a matter of time before Hotch broached the topic again, and she couldn't help the slight feeling of dread and guilt that settled in her stomach at the thought.

After a few more hours of sorting case files, everybody was ready to take a break. Emily was filling up what was probably her five hundredth cup of coffee of the day when JJ and Morgan walked up to her.

"We're about ready to go get your stuff. Did you make a list?" JJ asked.

Emily nodded and gave it to her, along with her keys. "Don't let Morgan near my underwear drawer."

He smiled his flirty smile. "Oh come on baby, not even a little peak?"

Emily and JJ shared a look and a shake of the head. They turned to go, but Emily stopped JJ with a hand on her arm. "Hey JJ, can I ask… which picture did you get in the mail?"

JJ frowned. "I think it was one of you getting out of your car. Why?"

Emily shook her head. "Just curious. Did you see the other pictures?"

JJ shook her head. "No, Hotch said it didn't matter what the photos actually showed and that we should just know that they were all of you."

Emily nodded, trying not to let her relief show too much. "Okay. Thanks for getting my stuff."

This had been nagging her all day. There was one picture in particular – the one of her getting undressed – about which she couldn't help but wonder… She had her suspicions about who might have gotten it, but she needed to know, if only to make sure that she had a good reason to be as mortified as she felt. She approached Reid, who was also making himself some more coffee, although the way his eyes shown a little crazily and the high speed of his speech made her wonder if maybe he'd already had a little too much.

"Hey."

"Hey," he said as he dropped a ridiculous amount of sugar into his cup.

"Which picture of me did you get in the mail?"

He didn't hesitate, thanks to eidetic memory. "The one of you in your kitchen. Why?"

Emily shook her head. "No reason. Thanks."

Walking back to the conference room where Dave and Hotch were still debating ideas, Emily was about to summon the courage to open her mouth and ask them the same question when Garcia barged in.

"Your Canadian boyfriend looks clean, my sweet," she said as she placed a folder in Emily's hands.

Emily was taken aback for a second, and she threw a quick, awkward look at Hotch and Rossi to see their reaction; Hotch was apparently entranced in his reading, but Rossi threw her a teasing look. "Thanks, Garcia. But he's not my boyfriend, we only went out twice."

"Well, whatever you want to call him, it was easy to track him down, him being Canadian on a work visa and all. He's cute, by the way."

Emily chuckled, a little embarrassed, as she threw another look at Hotch. He was still not paying attention to them. Good. "Ah, thanks, Garcia."

"Sure thing."

On second thought, Emily followed her outside the conference room. "Hey Garcia, which picture of me did you get?"

Garcia's face changed. "The one where you're walking to your apartment building. I'm sorry to admit that I didn't get it right away. It was only when I got here and realized that they'd all got one that I understood that something was wrong."

Emily squeezed her arm. "It's okay, Garcia. Thanks."

She returned to the conference room and sat down, half expecting Hotch or Dave to bring up her 'boyfriend' or the report issue, but they didn't. Instead Reid joined them again and the four of them spent the next hour or so in almost complete silence while they finished going over the pile, finding another couple of cases that seemed to fit the profile. It was only when Morgan and JJ returned with Emily's stuff that they all stopped working.

"Be extra vigilant tonight," Hotch advised. "The threat targets Prentiss personally, but he's watching all of us. Be careful."

Everyone agreed as they grabbed their stuff and left the bullpen, leaving Emily, Hotch and Rossi to put some order into the chaos of files on the table. Just as he moved past her to get to his office, Dave whispered, "I got the one of you and Morgan. Just in case you're wondering." And then he was gone. She rolled her eyes at the fact that _nothing_ ever escaped that man. It was as admirable as it was annoying.

So that left Morgan and Hotch, and she wasn't sure which of two she wished had gotten the picture. They both respected her, but Morgan would feel no scruples in teasing her mercilessly once this was over, and Hotch… well, it was just mortifying imagining him receiving that picture, wondering what the hell was going on. 'Why would Prentiss send me a picture of herself half-naked?' God, the mere thought of it!

"You ready?" His sudden appearance at her side made her blush in guilt and embarrassment.

She cleared her throat. "Oh yes, I was just waiting for whoever's driving me to the hotel."

"That would be me."

"Oh. Alright," was all she said as she gathered her stuff and picked her ready bag.

The ride was done in silence, much to Emily's surprise who kept expecting being reprimanded for her report. But he said nothing on the drive, nor as he checked her in at the hotel, nor as he followed her to the 5th floor. In the end, she was the one to break the silence when they finally reached the door to her hotel room and they stepped inside.

"You didn't have to come all the way up, you know," she said as she dropped her bag on the bed.

"I'm just returning the favor."

Emily smiled wanly as she took off her jacket and turned to look at him. He was standing still, hands in his pockets, and quietly observing her with that severe stare of his. Emily couldn't bear it anymore. "I know what you're thinking."

He tilted his head and pursed his lips in reply, and Emily understood the gesture as encouragement to say more.

"About the report. I know you're angry that I left things out."

"I guess it depends on how much you actually left out. We need to know what really happened if we want our profile to be accurate, you know that."

Emily nodded and sat on the bed with a sigh. "I know- of course I know. It's just… My report was accurate and complete, except for one thing."

He raised his chin, as if bracing himself.

"The threat I mentioned earlier. When Norland handcuffed me, he said that he didn't have time to have some fun, but that we'd meet again. I said that we would find him, no matter where he went, but he just said that he would find me first. The son of a bitch actually _promised_."

Hotch closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.

"And when I wrote the report, I thought that this wasn't something I wanted everyone in the FBI to know, you know? So I just... skipped it. But everything else was an accurate description."

Hotch looked back up and nodded. "I believe you." His eyes swept around the room for a second. "Is there anything else you need?"

"There is one thing…"

"Name it."

"I have to ask… Which picture did you get in the mail?"

The 'deer-caught-in-headlights' look on his face was almost comical. She was pretty sure that not much could surprise Aaron Hotchner and even less make him blush, but this was as close as it got. He pursed his lips and looked down, eyebrows raised as he rubbed a finger over his upper lip. "You think that's relevant to the profile?"

Emily shrugged. "I don't know. But this is all we have to go on at the moment." And she just _really_ needed to know.

He cleared his throat and seemed to stand taller, as if preparing himself for a confrontation. "I got the bedroom picture. It would make sense that he'd send that particular one to me, though, wouldn't it?" he added in one breath.

Emily almost smiled at his awkwardness, but as the idea of him getting the picture made her feel pretty awkward herself, she skipped the teasing and merely raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

He cleared his throat again. "I'm the unit chief - your boss - he probably wanted me to get the message more quickly than anyone else. And every UnSub whose files we looked over today knew me as well, so they know how protective of my team I can be."

Emily nodded. "Well, except for the Nashville killer."

"Yes, which is why I'd be tempted to rule him out as a suspect. But it's too early to say for certain."

Emily nodded, and a few seconds passed before he shifted on his feet. "Well, good night."

Emily rose to her feet and walked him to the door. "Good night. And thanks, for everything."

"I'm sorry you had to cancel your date."

Emily looked at him in surprise for a few seconds, she just hadn't expected that, but then shook her head when his expression didn't give up anything. "That's alright, it's not like we can't reschedule."

"Right. Of course." He turned to leave, but then stopped as he reached the door. "Sheppard and Mansfield are in the room next to yours, they'll be keeping watch tonight. If anything happens, follow protocol and make contact. But I want to be next on your speed dial."

"Got it. Thanks Hotch."

He returned her nod and grabbed the door handle, but this time it was Emily who stopped him.

"Hotch!" He met her gaze. "Be careful?"

He gave her a curt nod, and then was gone.

* * *

End part 1

As a side note, the story is _almost_ finished, I'm still working on the last couple of chapters, but I'll try posting every couple of days, so you should have the whole thing by the beginning of next week, I think. Reviews and comments are welcome! I've been out of the loop for a while, so I hope the characters are still acting like they should!


	3. Part 2

I have to say, you guys' response to the intro chapters was amazing! Thanks! It's always more fun to post a story when you know it's appreciated, so thanks for the feedback! :-) In this part you'll get to see a little bit of Hotch's point of view... Enjoy! - Amalgam000

**Part 2** (see prologue for disclaimers)

François Mauriac once said: "No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever."

* * *

When Hotch got home after dropping Prentiss at her hotel, his former sister-in-law was cleaning up in the kitchen, but there was a definite smell of food in the air that made his mouth water. When was the last time he actually ate today? This morning… Dropping his keys and briefcase on the table, he made his way to the kitchen.

"Hey," he called as he looked through his mail.

Jessica threw him a look over her shoulder as she rinsed her washing cloth in the sink. "Hey. Jack's finally asleep, he was a little recalcitrant tonight."

Hotch sighed. "Sorry I'm so late, I- something came up."

She threw him a quick look as she cleaned the counter. "It's alright. There's some lasagna in the fridge, if you'd like. Everything okay?"

Hotch stayed silent as he reached for a plate and helped himself to some lasagna before putting it in the microwave. "Yep." He'd always been adamant about keeping his work outside his house, especially with Haley, but for some reason Jessica always seemed interested. It was a little disheartening to realize that sheseemed to get him in ways that her sister never had. Then again, Jess, not being in any way involved with him, didn't have any of those expectations that come with a committed relationship, and she didn't have to put up with his crazy schedule on a daily basis.

So he wasn't really surprised when she pushed the issue. "Does it have to do with your mail this morning?"

He gave her a pointed look as he retrieved his now hot plate from the microwave.

"Oh come on, Aaron, I saw your face when you opened that envelope. What's happened?"

He shook his head as he sat at the table and Jess followed him, taking a seat across from him. But then he sighed. Maybe it would do him good to talk about it? Maybe it would help alleviate the worry and helpless rage that had been building up inside of him all day. "A member of my team is in trouble."

Jess just nodded, encouraging him to say more.

Hotch sighed, realizing that she wouldn't let this go until he threw her a bone. "You remember Emily Prentiss?"

Jess nodded in recollection. "The dark, funny one."

Hotch threw her a bemused look; that wasn't exactly how he would describe Prentiss, but… "Yes, well, let's just say that we have reasons to believe that she may be in danger."

"Oh."

Hotch avoided her inquisitive gaze as he started eating. After a few minutes spent in heavy silence, he looked back up with a sigh, only to see that she was smiling as if she knew something he didn't. It was infuriating, and suddenly he knew what it was like to have a little sister always questioning and nagging and questioning some more. His brother had never been like that, thank God for small favors. "What?" he asked, annoyed.

"_And_?" she pressed.

"And we don't know anything yet."

"Is that why you're brooding?"

He sighed as he dropped his fork onto his plate and leaned back in his chair. "A member of my team, a friend, is in danger, I think that's enough justification for a little frustration," he said, letting his anger permeate his tone. "We've spent the day trying to come up with a profile that has no meaning, no solid ground, and it won't mean anything until the UnSub makes his move, until _something_ happens."

Her smile was gone, but she was still looking at him as if she could read him like a book. Hotch restrained himself from squirming and faced her as he would a suspect, meeting her gaze unfalteringly, defying her to say more. She did, no more intimidated than if she was talking to Jack. "And you're afraid of what that_ something_ might be?"

Hotch felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart constrict painfully at the thought, and he looked down, shoulders sagging and letting out a long breath. "Terrified," he admitted in a low voice.

Jessica apparently had enough decency not to look triumphant at his admission and seemed to recognize when was a good time to back off, because she merely nodded and quietly walked back to the kitchen, leaving him alone with his words. They seemed to echo loudly in the quasi-silent house.

Yes, he was terrified. And he hated it – he hated how it hampered him, froze him instead of driving him forward. Worrying for his team had always been part of the job, just as much as losing good people and rescuing victims, but Hotch had always been confident enough in his team's abilities not to worry about their safety while they were on the clock. But this… this was different. The threat was direct this time, and it concerned his one profiler who was wise and political enough not to make enemies, the one who constantly questioned the ethical ramifications of their jobs and who fought everyday not to let the evil of criminal minds deter her from enjoying life. He didn't see her as any more vulnerable than Morgan or even himself, but the idea that somebody wanted to hurt someone that _good_ made him sick with the world. He had felt the same revulsion when he'd learnt that Garcia had been shot. It was just… revolting.

The thought that the UnSub had spent days, maybe weeks, observing her, stalking her, invading her most private moments, was enough to make him nauseous, so he pushed his plate aside and rubbed his hands over his face.

Hotch also had not been totally honest with her when he told her about the picture. He did think that who had received which photo was a meaningful and intentional act. He had told Prentiss that by sending him the most private picture the UnSub probably wanted him to get the message more quickly, but the truth was that Dave actually got the most significant symbol with that photo of her and Morgan and her head circled in black marker. No, the UnSub hadn't sent Hotch that particular photo to make him get the message, he had sent it to get to him. Personally. To get under his skin and rattle him until he staggered back and fell on his ass.

And the worst of it was that it was working.

The photo was highly inappropriate in itself, but to make sure that somebody else saw it, that _he _saw it… Hotch was slightly disgusted with himself for remembering it in such vivid detail, but he hadn't been able to get rid of the image all day. Every time he'd look at her he'd see it in his mind eye; her fingers around the hem of her sweater as she pulled it up over her stomach; the small portion of her dark green lacy bra that showed just below; the ivory skin of her stomach that looked incredibly soft to the touch… And there was just something simply arousing in the half-closed eyes and arched back…

Hotch jumped to his feet, ashamed of thinking of her in this way. He had always been careful not to get too familiar with his female colleagues, but she had somehow managed to burrow her way through his thick wall of professionalism with her friendly nature, sharp mind and wide, expressive dark eyes. And he was pretty sure that she wasn't even aware of it.

"Hey Aaron," Jess called from a few feet away, making him jump. "I'm off. You'll probably need me to pick up Jack from daycare tomorrow, right?"

Hotch cleared his throat, trying to shake thoughts of Prentiss from his head. "Um, I'm not sure. I'll call you."

"Okay. Take care, Aaron. And take care of Agent Prentiss."

"Bye Jess. Thanks."

Shaking his head at himself, he grabbed his unfinished plate and dropped it in the sink, then made his way to Jack's room. Opening the door slowly so as not to disturb his son's sleep, Hotch stepped in quietly and sat in the rocking chair that still filled one of the room's corners. Sitting back and rocking gently, he leaned his head back and watched as his son slept peacefully, the streetlights casting shadows over the light brown mop of hair. He knew he should probably try and get some sleep himself, but he had so many confusing flashbacks of the day swirling around in his head that he knew that sleep would elude him for a while - Garcia lunging forward to hug Prentiss, the grave faces of his colleagues as they realized that they'd all gotten a photo, Prentiss's nervousness as she'd admitted filing an incomplete report, her awkwardness when she'd asked him point blank which photo he'd received, her horrified expression as she realized she'd have to call her mother and silently pleading him to refute the idea…

Hotch smiled at that last one and tried to hang on to the memory as he closed his eyes. But her image morphed into the last look they had shared as he'd left her hotel room. She had been worried, but not for herself. For him. And that made him feel… cared for, and he realized he hadn't felt that way for a depressingly long time.

Hotch reached into his pocket to make sure that his cell was still on and that it had enough battery to last through the night. She would call him if anything happened, he knew that she would, so he pocketed his phone again and leaned back once more, closing his eyes.

Using years of experience at sublimating horrific mental images, Hotch tried to slow his breathing, relax his tense muscles and empty his mind. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning felt very… anticlimactic.

He got to the BAU early after a restless night, half of which had been spent in the uncomfortable rocking chair, only to realize that he had no more information this morning than he had when he'd left last night. He was still waiting, and he hated it. And he hated that the UnSub probably knew that, probably _enjoyed_ the waiting game and seeing him pace back and forth like a tiger in a cage.

After grabbing some coffee that seemed to taste like ash, he decided to go through the 'viable suspect' pile again, this time considering himself as a possible target in addition to Prentiss. He set aside the Nashville killer since they had no connection, but the rest of the cases were more ambiguous as he had participated in every one of them, usually as unit chief, but sometimes as Morgan's subordinate.

He was still going through them when the rest of the team showed up, including Prentiss and her FBI security detail. Hotch dismissed the two men with a nod, then met her eyes as she entered the conference room, trying to block any memory of the photo and regard her as his colleague and nothing more. He succeeded, for the most part; it helped that she wore a sharp, dark suit that screamed 'professional FBI agent – hands off.'

She met his eyes over the table and shrugged, shaking her head.

Nothing had happened.

Hotch was both relieved by the news and angry that they had no new information on which to lean. As his team settled back around the table, mostly in silence as they detected his bad mood, Hotch redistributed the 'viable suspect' folders among them and updated them on his ideas. He was hoping that their fresh eyes might notice something they'd missed the day before.

By the end of the day they had dismissed several more files for various reasons, so that they only had three viable suspects left, but still no new information or threats. But as much as Hotch wanted this to be over, they'd also come to the conclusion today that whoever was threatening Prentiss was smart enough to plan ahead and very carefully so. So they were now pretty sure that the UnSub was patient, highly intelligent and derived pleasure from a battle of wits. Most of the suspects they eliminated today would have followed up on the threats immediately, the compulsions making them act recklessly. But not this UnSub. This UnSub was calculating and patient, which fit the profiles of Steven Norland, John Cregg and J.C. Fergusson. Of the three, only Norland was still free.

Hotch rubbed his forehead tiredly as he walked to his office after dismissing the team and suggesting they call it a day. It was relatively early still, so Hotch grabbed his phone and dialed Jess's number to let her know that he would pick Jack up from daycare after all. As he hung up, Dave appeared in the doorway, hands in his pockets and with that look on his face that said he had something on his mind.

"Rough, huh?" he said as he entered and closed the door behind him.

"Isn't it always?" Hotch replied as he arranged his files into his briefcase.

Rossi shrugged, but Hotch knew him enough to know that there was nothing non-committal about Dave's conversations – especially those behind closed doors. "It's worse when it's one of our own," Dave stated.

"Yes, it is."

"Prentiss can take care of herself," he said after a beat, making Hotch glance at him briefly.

"Yes, I know." He shut his briefcase with a thud.

"Good. I'm glad we've cleared that up."

Hotch's head snapped in Dave's direction at this, wondering what he was implying. "She wouldn't be part of this team if I didn't know she could take care of herself, Dave," Hotch replied, feeling a little defensive in spite of himself.

Dave rested his hands on the back of a chair and leaned forward. "I know you want to protect her, we all do, but you… It's in your blood, Hotch, and I just wanted to warn you to be careful not to let the need to protect her blind you to… other dangers."

Hotch frowned in confusion. "I don't understand. I'm just trying to find whoever-"

Dave was all seriousness, no sign of false casualness when he interrupted. "I'm just saying, don't let it get under your skin. Be sure not to give in to your compulsions."

Hotch almost blushed at this – surely he couldn't mean _those_ compulsions. Hotch had been very careful not to treat her or look at her any differently than he normally would, so how could Rossi have noticed-

"I meant your protective compulsions," Dave added, this time with a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his lips, making the tip of Hotch's ears feel suddenly hot. "She wouldn't put up with it."

With that he left, smugness permeating his stride. Hotch shook his head, perplex, wondering what the hell had just happened. Rossi had a way of noticing everything, which was usually a great asset to the team, but this was a little too-

A knock on the doorframe made him look up sharply, and he shifted on his feet when he saw it was Prentiss. "Hey, just wanted to let you know that my mother's out of town until Thursday, so I told Sheppard and Mansfield that I'd be prolonging my stay at the hotel for a few more days."

Hotch merely nodded.

Prentiss frowned as she stepped in more fully. "Everything okay?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes. And I'm sure it won't be a problem, for the hotel. We'll arrange for you to switch locations every couple of days."

Prentiss nodded, but she was still looking at him with a little concern. "Thanks. You sure you're okay Hotch?"

He grabbed his briefcase, a clear signal that he considered this conversation to be over. "Yep," he replied curtly. "Call me if anything happens."

She nodded, bemused. "I will. Good night." She turned on her heels and walked out, but not without sending him another concerned look over her shoulder.

Hotch shook his head, cursing mentally and berating himself for his actions. He was angry at himself, but also at the UnSub for sending him that damn picture and bringing to light emotions he wasn't allowed to feel.

That was his punishment, Hotch decided, and the UnSub's perfect revenge.

* * *

End part 2 - I should have part 3 up at some point tomorrow. Thanks for reading!


	4. Part 3

**Part 3 **(Disclaimer in Prologue)

Things have gotten closer to the sun  
And I've done things in small doses  
So don't think that I'm pushing you away  
When you're the one that I've kept closest

The XX - Crystalised

Emily woke up with a headache the next morning, probably as a consequence of too much caffeine and a restless night filled with disturbing dreams. While she couldn't help but worry about her safety, she knew, rationally, that there was nothing more the FBI could do to protect her until they knew more. But she was concerned about Hotch. He'd been edgy and irascible all day yesterday, making everyone in the team walk on eggshells around him, and he hadn't even realized it.

To Emily he'd just looked… in a state of panic. And what was confusing was that the threats – as potentially bad as they were - didn't seem to warrant such a reaction from him. Something else must be bothering him, but Emily wasn't sure she had a right to ask.

As she entered the BAU, once more sided by Mansfield and Sheppard, she couldn't help but fill the metaphoric chill in the air. Something had happened and her gaze automatically found Hotch's office. His door was closed.

"We have a case," JJ said from behind her, as if it explained everything. Maybe it did.

Taking a deep breath, Emily followed JJ to the conference room and suddenly understood where the chill in the bullpen came from; it came from this exact room. Hotch sat still in his chair, but Emily could almost see the little thundercloud above his head. He looked tired and… furious. Frowning, her eyes traveled over the rest of the team; Morgan sent off waves of barely-controlled anger, Rossi looked preoccupied and Reid looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Emily met JJ's eyes as she took a seat between Reid and Morgan, but JJ only gave her an almost imperceptible shrug from where she stood beside the screen.

"Guys, what's going on?" Emily asked. If something had happened she had a right to know!

After a few seconds of silence and of everyone avoiding looking at her, Hotch met her eyes briefly before his gaze darted away. "We have a case."

Emily smiled a bemused smile. "Yeah, JJ told me, is there something I should know…?"

It was Morgan who answered, and by the lethal look on Hotch's face, Emily guessed that something had happened between the two men. "Nope. We've decided to focus on this new case until we have more information concerning the threats on you."

Emily nodded. That made sense, she knew they was nothing more they could do until the UnSub made his move. "Okay, so what's the problem?"

Rossi spoke up. "There's no problem. JJ, I think we're ready to start."

For the following half-hour, JJ presented the cases of four murdered women in Colorado, but Emily had trouble concentrating with so much tension in the room. Reid seemed like the only one who really paid attention, and Emily herself had to shake herself out of her thoughts a number of times and refocus her attention on the case. Hotch, Morgan and Rossi were uncharacteristically quiet, only speaking up to ask questions or demand further details, but they never spoke directly to each other.

When the meeting was over, Hotch requested that they leave in 10 minutes. Emily approached him warily as everyone stormed out of the room.

He barely looked at her when she called his name. "Ten minutes, Prentiss. Don't be late," he said curtly as he grabbed his files and walked away.

Emily flinched at his coldness. Maybe he was mad at her for leaving details out of the report after all? He seemed okay with it before – a little disappointed that she hadn't been totally truthful maybe - but he'd definitely looked like he understood her reasons. And what was going on with Morgan? It was no secret that these two often butted heads, but this seemed different than their usual alpha male confrontations.

Confused and a little hurt, Emily was no less determined to figure out what was going on, so she gathered her stuff and walked out to meet with the others.

Despite the four murders and the constant rush of adrenaline that came with searching for a serial killer, it felt good to feel safe (or safer) for a while. Emily doubted that her 'admirer' would follow her to Colorado on such short notice, so she allowed herself to relax a little and tried to stop looking over her shoulder and actually focus on the job.

The tension of the morning had remained throughout the flight – no banter between Morgan and Garcia when they video-conferenced, no joking at Reid's expense – only cold professionalism. It had almost been too much to bear.

Once at the station, Hotch had sent her with Rossi to interview one of the victims' family, while Reid and Morgan went to the first crime scene and he and JJ talked to the local police. Emily couldn't help a sigh of relief as she climbed into the passenger seat of their SUV next to Dave.

Rossi heard her and threw her a look, but remained silent as he started driving. After a few minutes of silence, Emily just had to say something. "You're not going to tell me?"

"We need to focus on the case."

Emily let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well that's a little difficult when Hotch and Morgan are at each other's throats."

He sighed. "They argued."

"About?"

"About taking this case."

Emily frowned. "I don't understand. Doesn't Hotch usually make that decision based on JJ's recommendation?"

He nodded. "Except that this time Hotch didn't want to take the case at all. And the rest of us did."

Emily waited for him to say more, but when he didn't she rolled her eyes in exasperation. God! It was like pulling teeth! "Why Rossi, why didn't Hotch want to take this case?"

"He thought we should focus on finding your stalker first."

Emily frowned. "But… until we know more there's not much we can do, right? Better to use our expertise for someone who needs it more urgently, don't you think?"

"Oh I agree with you, and so does Morgan. Hotch apparently doesn't see it this way."

Emily sighed. That wasn't like him, what was going on in that brilliant mind of his, she wondered?

"He just wants to make sure you're safe," Dave said after a few seconds, as if reading her thoughts.

"I know that, and I'm thankful for it, really, but I'm much safer here, working with you guys, than I would be in some hotel room in DC or Quantico."

"You have to understand, Hotch is… He just doesn't like to feel powerless, and this UnSub – with the waiting game and forced inaction – he's really getting to him. That's Hotch's one weakness as a profiler; he can't stand it when he can't protect those he cares about."

"Can you blame him, after what happened to Haley?"

"Of course not. I'm just giving you my opinion on why he's been acting this way."

Emily blew out a long breath. She felt like she had to talk to him, reassure him somehow, but she wasn't sure that he would let her.

"Can we focus on the case now?" Rossi asked.

"Yes sir."

* * *

The next three days were spent working almost non-stop on the serial murder case, and slowly the tension between Hotch and Morgan abated. Emily tried a few times to broach the subject with Hotch, but he still kept her at arms-length, avoiding working with her directly and pairing her up with either Rossi or Reid. She was getting a little frustrated at his coldness and aloofness, but until he actually let her talk to him, there was not much she could do except focus on the job.

On the third day, the UnSub finally got sloppy at the fifth crime scene and in his usual heroic flash of brilliancy, Reid noticed a pattern that had eluded everyone so far. That broke the case and hours later Morgan and Rossi arrested a suspect and the team managed to piece together enough evidence for the local police to make the arrest official.

Their job was done.

On the flight back, another opportunity to talk to Hotch presented itself. Everyone was sleeping except for Emily, who kept shifting positions in her seat, still too wired to settle her mind. As she rose to get her novel from her bag, she noticed that Hotch wasn't sleeping either. He was sitting by himself at the back, looking out the window, lost in thought.

Emily observed him quietly from where she stood, debating with herself whether she should go to him. With his forehead forlornly resting against the cabin wall, almost completely in the dark except for the string of lights coming from the alley floor, he looked utterly lonely and sad. Emily's heart sank at the sight, her stomach knotting painfully with guilt and helplessness. She was pretty sure that he wouldn't tell her if she asked what was wrong, but still, she could be a friend to him and remind him that she was there if he needed her. She went to make herself some tea, and she returned with two cups, silently handing one to Hotch as she stepped at his side.

For a funny second his eyes followed the arm holding the cup in front of his nose, but then he straightened up and tensed when his gaze reached her face and he realized it was her. Still, he took her peace offering with a small 'thanks,' so Emily sat down across from him.

"I couldn't sleep," she said before taking a careful sip of hot tea.

He nodded, but remained quiet, making Emily want to roll her eyes. But then she remembered how lonely and tormented he'd looked minutes before, so she looked out the window into the dark night and deliberately avoided looking at him.

"I _know_ we're going to find him, Hotch," she said quietly after a few moments of silence.

That seemed to get his attention as she could suddenly feel his grave gaze on her face, but Emily kept her eyes stubbornly focused on the darkness outside their small plane.

"I thought we already had," he replied.

She smiled wanly. "I'm not talking about our last case."

For a beat Emily could only hear the engines and Reid's gentle snoring.

And then…"Not until he makes another move," Hotch admitted quietly, painfully, and at that moment Emily heard it: his fear that waiting meant risking being too late. The fact that he doubted himself and the team scared the crap out of her, but she tried to slow down the suddenly hectic beat of her heart and took a deep breath.

"There's nothing you can do about that, except for what you're already doing."

"It's not enough."

Emily's eyes tore away from the dark sky at this and as she turned her head in his direction she suddenly met his dark and penetrating gaze. The intensity made her breath catch in her throat, but her voice was determined when she spoke. "It is to me." He looked away at this, but Emily pressed on. "You don't have to prove anything to me, or this team, or to whoever it is that sent those stupid photos."

"It's not about some male bravado, Prentiss, it's not about proving anything. To anyone." His voice was low and intense, but Emily could hear the emotion in it, and it both amazed and frightened her. She hadn't seen him this emotional for a few months now, and it was freaking her out as much as it pleased her that he trusted her enough to open up, albeit reluctantly. While his voice was deep and almost cracking, his gaze was most definitely _not_ hesitant; Emily had to stop herself from squirming in her seat. She'd never seen him look at her this way before, and she wasn't sure what had prompted such intensity from him; it was almost like he was simultaneously infuriated with her and longing for… something. Whatever it was, it left her breathless and she had to resist looking away.

"What's it about, then Hotch?" she pressed quietly, sounding a little breathless to her own ears.

He tilted his head a tiny fraction, as if to see her better, but his stare never wavered. "It's about protecting my team, Prentiss, people I care about. It's about doing everything in my power not to loose someone I-" He stopped himself and finally his eyes darted down, but only for a second. When they returned to hers the thick wall was up again. "It's about making sure the members of my team are safe."

Emily nodded dumbly, but his emotional declaration left her tongue-tied. Did he just tell her he cared about her? That he didn't want to lose her? While she _knew_ that he did care about her and about the team, she had never in a million years thought that he would ever _tell_ her. And she wasn't sure what to make of that.

He must have seen her expression change from 'tell me more' to 'wtf,' because he suddenly tensed and turned away from her, looking out the window. "Get some rest, Prentiss."

Emily recognized a dismissal when she heard one, so she rose sharply to her feet, annoyed at herself for reacting the way she had. But she was angry at him too, angry that he felt the need to act as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Damn it, it _wasn't_! Emily felt like shaking him, or slapping him to make him snap out of his self-induced guilt. But she knew it was useless. He wouldn't rest until they found the guy and Emily was starting to wonder if perhaps he was getting a little too involved in the case to be objective and rational about it.

Oh, the irony of saying that about _him_!

One thing for sure though, she was done talking, and it was somebody else's turn to get their heads bitten off.

* * *

On their return to D.C., Emily found herself staying at the hotel again. There had been no more threats or any sign of the UnSub during their absence, but Hotch was still adamant about her not staying at home. Emily was used to living in her trunks, but she was starting to get a little frustrated with the arrangements and Hotch's sternness – not to mention that she really missed home-cooked dinners.

On Friday, Rossi and Hotch went to interrogate Fergusson and Cregg, the two suspects on their list of three who were incarcerated. But apparently nothing came out of it, as neither Hotch nor Rossi could tell whether the two really didn't know anything or if they were just too good at this. They both fit the profile, which emphasized intelligence, so they were both more than capable to play even two of the brightest profilers of their time.

On Saturday, Emily decided to return to the BAU even though she technically had the day off. But she couldn't spend the day doing nothing at the hotel, and if she wanted to go somewhere she had to be accompanied by either Mansfield or Sheppard. She felt stranded and vulnerable, and she hated it.

So she spent the day going over the three case files again, hoping to see something that would help in finding the location of the UnSub. Each of the remaining three suspects fit the profile, but Emily kept returning to Norland's file as it sat on her desk, as if taunting her. Of the three, he made the most sense to her, and with what happened that day in front of his shabby shed, Emily was becoming more and more certain that he was the one after her. As much as she hated it, she had created a personal connection with him not only at that moment but also during the course of the investigation, and while she had been able to 'let it go' as Hotch had told her to, she didn't expect a sexual sadist to forget such a near-miss. It probably haunted him. Obsessed him. Especially as she had challenged him.

Fighting a shiver of revulsion, she grabbed her phone and dialed.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, it's Emily. Sorry to disturb you, I-"

"What's wrong, where are you?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "I'm fine Hotch, nothing happened, I'm at the BAU."

"Oh. What are you doing at work?"

"Going over the files again. Got two words for you: Steven Norland."

"You think he's our UnSub?"

"The more I think about it, the more I… Yeah… I'm pretty sure."

"Because of what he said to you?"

Emily nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Yeah, and because I didn't get as close with the others. This one… was really personal, I think especially for him."

"Okay, do you need me to come over? Ouch, hold on a second," Emily smiled as she heard the high-pitched voice of his son, and then the muffled sound of Hotch saying: "Jack, no soccer ball in the house… No, we've already discussed that… I'll go outside with you in a second…" Then his voice returned to the normal volume as he refocused his attention on her. "Sorry, do you need me to come over?"

"Soccer in the house, huh?" she asked teasingly, but then she remembered that he hadn't been all that friendly lately so she held her breath, berating herself.

"It's always more fun where there's expensive stuff to hit, I guess," he replied easily and Emily's smile widened. _Finally_!

"No need to come over Hotch, enjoy showing your son how it's done. I'll go over Norland's file again, see if there's anything that could help us figure out where he'd be hiding."

"Let me know what you come up with."

"Will do."

When she had first met Norland, it had been during the investigation of the rape and murder of five women in Nevada. The women were all in their thirties, single and busy with their jobs. They had all been found badly mutilated, so the team had concluded that the UnSub kept them for a certain amount of time, sometimes as long as a week. But they had also profiled that he probably stalked his victims for a while before approaching them, so that when he did, it was as the man of their dreams. In an eerily short amount of time, he'd learn everything about them; what music they liked, what type of food, who their friends were, if a boyfriend was around, and he could generally tell what they looked for in a man so that he could play that role. And that was the part he enjoyed, probably as much as the torture. The waiting game, the pretending, the seduction...until he had them at his mercy, at which time all hell broke loose.

The case had been creepy and disturbing, but their profile had finally allowed them to narrow down the list of suspects to two, and Emily had even interrogated him – with Hotch, she now remembered. The interrogation had led to nowhere, but Emily could recall the not-so-subtle glances that Norland kept sending her way. Hotch had noticed too, but they'd both tacitly decided not to give Norland the pleasure of letting him see how it affected her, and how it poked at Hotch's sense of protection. It wasn't until the DNA results came back positive on that one hair, that they'd gone after him a second time, this time with a warrant to search his property. They had been so close to getting him, too…

What would a man like him do now, after months of hiding from the police and the FBI? Methodical, intent on revenge, with sadistic compulsions towards women… Were there any new victims out there that they didn't know of? He was certainly waiting for _something_, but Emily didn't know what. Was he waiting for Hotch to relieve some of his tight control over her security, for her to let go of her vigilance for a fraction of a second? For something else?

God, it was creepy, especially as she was pretty sure that he was fantasizing about doing what he did to these women to _her_. The thought made her nauseous.

She almost jumped out of her skin when her cell rang. Checking the id, she recognized the name as belonging to her new romantic prospect. The cute guy from Canada, as Garcia had said. Hell yeah.

Emily picked up. "Matt, hi!"

"Emily, is this a bad time?"

"No, no I could use a break. What's up?"

"Well, when you didn't call me back after you canceled last week, I- I guess I just want to make sure that it wasn't something I did, or said, because sometimes I can get very geeky, and it's-"

Emily smiled as she interrupted. "It's nothing like that, Matt. It's um… work-related. I can't discuss it, but, let's just say I'm not available at the moment."

The line went silent for a moment. "Oh. Are you seeing someone else? Because if you are, just let me know and I'll-"

"Oh no, no! I didn't mean… I didn't mean 'available' in that sense. Let's just say… that I'm out of town for a few more weeks."

"Weeks?"

"Well days. I don't know, maybe weeks. Like I said, it's work-related." Emily kicked herself… She sounded way too distant. She had to remedy that. "But… if you want to… call me and talk, or something… Until we can actually reschedule…"

"I'd like that."

"Great. Great!"

"So, um… how long of a break are you taking right now?"

Emily grinned. "My boss isn't around… as long as I want."

* * *

Three more weeks passed and still no news on the UnSub/Norland. Meanwhile, things returned to normal – or as normal as they got in their line of work – except that Emily still resided in hotels, rotating between four of them. As much as she missed her own bed and home-cooked meals, she was starting to get used to the smell of bleached hotel sheets, and all things considered it was probably better than to live with her mother, which could potentially place her in danger too.

In an ironic reversal of situation, Hotch seemed to have gotten his worry under control after their plane conversation whereas Emily was starting to feel like crawling out of her skin. The constant looking over her shoulder was starting to get to her and, as much as she could accept on a rational level that there wasn't much she could do except play it safe, a part of her was more than ready for action, to stop waiting for something that might never happen and just _do _something. She was fine when she was at work, having something to focus on and feeling safe surrounded by tight security and her team. But at night, when she got to her hotel room, alone, her imagination started working overtime – she checked closets, behind the shower curtain, under the bed over and over – and she had to constantly remind herself that Mansfield or Sheppard were next door, taking turn at keeping watch. But she slept with her gun under her pillow and her restlessness and paranoia kept her awake late into the night, sometimes _through_ the night. In moments like this, her heart would swell in relief at the first lights of dawn. Everything seemed so much clearer when it was light.

She tried to hide the fact that sleepless nights were starting to take their toll on her while she was at work, and so far no one had commented on the dark circles under her eyes, but she was aware that she was slowly becoming jumpy and moody. All of a sudden she could empathize with Hotch's feelings of powerlessness.

Speaking of Hotch, he was still acting stern and driven, but no more so than before all this started. He still acted tense around her, but Emily had more or less given up trying to make him open up and decided to go with the team policy to never profile each other and steered clear of Hotch's path. That had seemed to work so far and they'd been able to work efficiently, albeit a little coldly.

Her calls with Matt had also become kind of a regular thing, the only thing that seemed normal in her life at the moment. She really wished they could meet again, because she seriously needed some light conversation that would take her mind off other things. As far as Emily knew, there were no restrictions on her dating someone, so she was hoping to be able to schedule another date. It wasn't like she was in a witness protection program or anything, and she figured that if she told Sheppard and Mansfield, then they could accompany her – from a distance, of course. She was starting to know her two FBI detail pretty well – Sheppard usually watched over her during the day when she wasn't at work, and Mansfield had taken up night watch, during which they'd spent a few nights playing cards when Emily couldn't handle being alone.

Emily was just about to leave for the day, joking with Mansfield about Sheppard's most recent disastrous date, when her cell beeped. It was Hotch, asking that she meet him in his office before she left.

Telling Mansfield that she'd be back in a few minutes, she turned around and walked back into the BAU, crossed the bullpen and knocked on Hotch's door.

"Come in."

"What's up?" she asked as she opened the door. He seemed surprised to see her respond so quickly to his call, but then gestured her in.

"Prentiss, come on in, have a seat."

Emily frowned warily as she took a seat. "Okay…"

"How are you doing, Emily? We haven't talked in a while."

Emily almost snorted. This coming from the man who kept avoiding her, who ran as fast as he could as soon as she so much as said hello? The only times he'd been easier with her was when they spoke on the phone. She opened her mouth to retort some sarcastic comment, but the look on his face stopped her. There was something almost… wistful in the way he steadily gazed at her.

It totally confused her. She could deal with severe and cold, but this... this she'd never experienced and it left her breathless and not a little bemused. "Hotch?"

He cleared his throat. "You're aware that we put out an APB for Norland, right?"

Emily nodded, eyes wide, suddenly dreading where this was going.

"Local police responded earlier today, but failed to apprehend the suspect. Of course we can't be sure that it's him, but…"

"Where?"

"Georgetown."

Emily rose to her feet and started pacing, wringing her hands together. "Do you think it was intentional?"

"I don't know."

"Damn it! I swear to God, if we don't find the son of a -"

"We can't be sure whether he meant for someone to see and report him," he quietly interrupted, "but whatever his intentions, this is a good reminder that we can't let our guards down."

Emily shook her head in frustration. "I'm getting sick of his game."

"I know."

"Isn't there anything we can do? Maybe if we set him up? You could use me as bait and -"

"No."

Emily turned to face him. "Hotch, we need to do _something_, maybe if we provoke him, he'll do something reckless, and-"

"No!"

Emily pursed her lips in frustration as she stared at him, but he merely held her gaze steadily, without blinking.

"It's a good idea, you know it is. I'm a trained FBI agent, I can take care of myself."

"No. I'm not going to let one of my agents risk her life like this again."

Again?

Emily put aside her confusion – she couldn't remember any of them acting as bait, was he referring to something that occurred before her time? She started pacing again, feeling Hotch's gaze follow her across the length of his office. "If we planned this right, I wouldn't be risking my life. Because you guys would be there to watch my back."

"You know as well as I do that situations like that are unpredictable. Anything could happen and if our profile is correct and Norland's our UnSub, then that _anything_ could turn out to be the stuff of nightmares. I'm not willing to take that chance."

"_I _am!" Emily cried, and then sighed in defeat as she saw his unfazed expression.

"You can't be objective about this, Prentiss."

"Oh and you can?"

"No," he replied truthfully, "none of us can, and this is why I'm not going to allow it."

Emily held his stare for a few seconds, but seeing that he wasn't going to flinch, she backed down. "Fine. See you tomorrow."

With that she stormed off, all the while shaking her head in anger and frustration. Why wouldn't he even consider it? It was a good idea, and she was getting to the point when she'd much rather risk her life and play bait than do nothing while constantly watching over her shoulder.

Meeting Mansfield just outside the bullpen, she nodded and grabbed her phone.

And called Matt.

* * *

End part 3, stay tuned for some recklessness on Emily's part ;-) Anyways, thanks for reading, I hope this is still up to your expectations!


	5. Part 4

I was reminded the other day that this was Paget Brewster's last season, that makes me really sad, I'm kind of afraid of where this show is going. And this season hasn't been the same without JJ either. *sigh*

But anyways, on a brighter note: thanks again for your comments and feedback! They're always appreciated! For those of you who enjoyed that little moment with Jack, don't worry, you'll see more of him :-) So, so far Emily's been pretty oblivious to poor Hotch's torments, but that's all about to change [insert dramatic music] ;-) This is one of my personal favorite parts I think, so enjoy :-)

Disclaimers in Prologue

**Part 4**

Henry Miller once wrote: "One of the reasons why so few of us ever act, instead of react, is because we are continually stifling our deepest impulses."

* * *

Hotch let out a long sigh as he tried to focus on his report. His head ached with tension and he was more than ready to call it a night. He looked at the clock.

7:08 pm.

He really should go home, especially as the only thing keeping him at the BAU was this damn report, which he could easily finish at home. The others had already left anyway. As he started packing, his earlier conversation with Prentiss came replaying in his mind. She was mad at him, but he couldn't really blame her. He understood more than anyone how she felt. He had noticed over the last couple of weeks how dark lines had appeared under her eyes, how even paler than usual she had begun to look. She hid it well, and if the others had noticed that her bad moods were becoming as frequent as her good moods, no one said anything. But he knew the looks – they had looked at him the same way when his search for Foyet had (admittedly) turned into an obsession – a legitimate one, in his opinion, but an obsession all the same.

He himself had considered weeks ago setting up a bait situation to provoke Norland or whoever the UnSub was into action, but he remembered bitterly that the last time he had used a member of his team as bait, it hadn't turned out so well. True, in some ways Prentiss was better at compartmentalizing and more cool-headed than Elle Greenaway, but Hotch had recognized in Prentiss's eyes the same desperate need and restlessness that he'd seen in Elle's during those last few cases before she left. And this was what scared him. He knew he could trust Prentiss when the time came to follow protocols and chains of command, and she had proven countless times that she could hold herself together in stressful situations, but what if her physical and psychological exhaustion clouded her judgment? What if her need for action made her act recklessly? He wasn't ready to take that chance and put her in a position where she'd have to make that choice.

Rising to his feet with a sigh, he shut his briefcase. A knock at the door made him look up.

"Excuse me, sir," Harrison said, "this came for you. It says it's urgent."

Hotch took the envelope. "Thanks Harrison. Good night."

The young agent turned on his heels, but Hotch barely saw him leave. Suddenly his vision tunneled on the envelope between his hands – the address was hand-written, just like-

Feeling the blood leave his face, Hotch rushed out of his office and ran through the bullpen to catch up with Harrison, unaware of the strange looks he was receiving from his coworkers.

"Harrison! Did you see who delivered this?"

The young man seemed confused. "Uh, FedEx I think. What's wrong?"

Hotch looked at the envelope again and saw that postage had indeed been paid – it hadn't been hand-delivered. He also noticed that there was a return address, but Hotch didn't recognize the name; was pretty sure it wasn't real anyway.

Oh God…

Suddenly unable to breathe, Hotch tore the envelope open with shaking fingers. It was more photos and his heart stopped beating before it suddenly sprung to life again and pounded erratically against his chest. Prentiss was not on them, he realized with relief; this time they were pictures of restaurants, four of them, but Hotch was absolutely certain that this was another one of Norland's message. What did it mean?

Forgetting all about Harrison, Hotch turned on his heels and grabbed his phone. He walked anxiously as Prentiss's phone rang once before it went to her voicemail.

"God DAMN it!"

Next number on the list.

"Supreme commander of all that is information with a capital 'I', how can I help you?"

"Garcia, I need you to find four addresses for me. I'm thinking they're probably local." He gave her the names of the two Italian and two French restaurants.

"Yes sir, they're all in DC. I'm sending you the coordinates right now."

"Thanks Garcia. I need you to get Rossi and Reid to go to When in Rome, ask Morgan to meet me at La Table de Jacques, I'm going to send more agents to the other two locations. It's about Prentiss." As soon as he hung up he gave the call to request for backup and dispatch them at the four locations even as he walked out to his car. When that was done he dialed JJ.

"Hello?"

"JJ, do you know anything about Prentiss eating out tonight?"

"Ah, yeah, I think she said something about a date downtown, why?"

Damn! "Do you know if it was Italian, or French?"

"I don't remember her saying… Hotch, what's going on?"

"I just received four photos of local restaurants."

"Oh my God, you think she was going to one of them?"

"I'm dispatching agents to all four locations, she's not picking up her phone."

"I'll meet you there, send the address? Do you need me to call the others?"

"Garcia's taking care of it. I'm going to keep calling Prentiss, hopefully she'll pick up. Just meet us at the address I'll send you when you can."

"Alright, see you in a few minutes."

Hotch hung up and started driving, all the while trying to keep himself from considering the worst case scenarios. This could not be happening. _Not again._ The usual 40-or so minute drive from Quantico into DC took him less than 20, so that he arrived at the coordinates of the first location just after the local police. He'd briefed them over the radio as he'd driven, so everyone knew what to expect. Prentiss still hadn't answered her phone, and Hotch just really hoped that the reason was something as simple as her turning it off during dinner. If she had done that to retaliate after their argument and piss him off, he would wring her neck!

God, please let her be alright, he silently prayed as he stopped the car.

Hotch met with the chief as soon as he got out of his car. "I'm going to go in first with two officers, I don't want to cause a panic if this is just a false alarm."

"Got it, we'll secure the perimeter-"

"Hotch!"

Hotch sighed in relief as he saw Morgan running towards him. "Morgan, you're with me, let's go."

Morgan didn't ask any questions as he pulled out his gun and fell in step beside him.

As they walked towards the entrance, Hotch grabbed his phone again and dialed.

"Rossi."

"Dave!"

"Hotch, I'm on my way to the restaurant."

"I'm at another location, about to enter. Keep me posted."

"Will do, good luck."

Nodding to Morgan, they got in and Hotch started looking for Prentiss from the entrance as Morgan showed off his badge to the hostess and explained the situation. They didn't want to cause a fuss, so they remained at the entrance for a moment, trying to get a good look at the patrons. The restaurant was packed, which didn't help at all and many tables were hidden in crooks and corners.

"Do you see her?" Morgan asked as he scanned the crowd.

Hotch shook his head and grabbed his phone, dialing her number for the hundredth time. Voicemail again. "Alright, I'm going in, Morgan, watch my back, Officer keep a look out for Steven Norland or any suspicious or sudden behavior."

Hotch walked in, eyes constantly scanning the crowd, trying to spot her dark hair while always keeping a look out for sudden movements. He did a double take as his eyes landed on an unexpected face: Agent Mansfield, sitting at a table by himself. Hotch made a move in his direction, but at that moment the agent looked up, and if he was surprised at seeing Hotch a few feet away he hid it well. Instead, he only tilted his head towards his right. Hotch followed the direction of his gaze, and then he saw her.

She was sitting in a corner to his left, half turned away from him. She was laughing and Hotch's breath caught in his throat for a second at seeing her safe. She looked amazing with her hair falling in loose curls on her shoulders, her soft sweater, skirt and high-heeled boots. He forced his gaze away and looked at the man sitting in front of her. He looked in his late thirties, and while the light beard darkening his jaw gave him a somewhat manly look, his curly and unruly hair made him look much younger. Was _he_ the 'cute Canadian boyfriend' then? To Hotch he looked too boyish to be able to hold a candle to a spirited woman such as Prentiss.

"Morgan, 11 o'clock, corner booth. Keep a look out for Norland, I'm going to retrieve her. Agent Mansfield is also keeping watch," Hotch said into his watch, his gaze never leaving her form.

"Got it."

With her back to him she didn't see him approach, but Hotch could see the expression on her date's face go from confusion to outright fear as Hotch approached their table in a determined stride. He must have been a frightening sight because the younger man actually seemed to gulp and lean back into his seat as he realized their table was Hotch's destination. Suddenly seeing her date's expression, Prentiss stopped laughing and followed his gaze, settling on Hotch just as he stepped beside their table.

"Hotch, what are you-"

"Prentiss, out. Now."

Her expression changed from surprised to furious in a flash. "Hotch, who do you think you are, barging in like this-"

"Emily, no time to argue. Let's go. Now."

"Uh, is there a problem, Emily?" The guy asked as he stood to his feet and glared. Hotch admired his courage, really, but did he really think he could intimidate him?

"Matt, no, there's no problem, just… Excuse us for a second."

She rose to her feet and Hotch grabbed her elbow in a tight grip in order to guide her towards the entrance. He inconspicuously scanned the crowd, the urgency in his gut making him walk in tall strides. "Hotch! What the hell are you doing?" she hissed as she tried to keep up with his pace. She might be angry at him for showing up like this, but hell, so was he. What on earth had she been thinking? Just after he'd told her that Norland had been seen in Georgetown!

"Why aren't you answering your phone?" he hissed back.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Are you saying you didn't get my calls tonight?"

"Hotch, just STOP, for a second," she said as she planted her feet on the ground and snatched her arm away. "Either you tell me what's going on or back off!"

Hotch flinched at her words as if she'd slapped him the face. Did she really think he'd be acting this way if he didn't have a good reason? He pulled out the pictures out of his vest pocket and handed them to her even as he put a little pressure on her back to keep her moving. She complied as she gazed down at the photos between her hands. He felt the muscles of her back stiffen as he led her through the rows of tables.

"Oh my God!"

"Come on, we'll talk on the way."

"On the way where?"

"The safe house."

"Whoa, wait-"

"Prentiss," he interrupted sternly, brooking no argument. "We'll talk in the car."

"But Matt, I can't just leave him like this-"

"Agent Mansfield will explain the situation and make sure he gets back home safely." He threw her a quick look and his gaze softened as he saw how much this seemed to affect her. "You can call him back once this is all over."

"Yeah, right, as if he'll want anything to do with me after this," she mumbled as they reached the entrance and they met with Morgan and the officer. He saw her exchange a pointed look with Morgan, but Hotch ignored it. They escorted her outside without incident and she threw him a surprised look over her shoulder as he climbed after her in the back seat of the FBI SUV. Morgan took the wheel and Hotch breathed out in relief as they started moving. He heard Morgan call Rossi and the others and reassure them that Prentiss was safe, and he was grateful for the initiative.

He wasn't sure which emotion threatened to overcome him first; relief that she was safe, or anger that she'd acted so recklessly. Damn it, this was exactly the situation he had been trying to prevent! Looking down at his hands he saw that they were shaking, so he crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window into the blurred city lights, taking advantage of the darkness in the car to close his eyes and try to get the erratic pounding of his heart under control.

She was safe. Thank God, she was safe. But how?

"How did he know I would be there?" Prentiss asked, and Hotch turned to throw her a sharp look... Had he spoken out loud? But her frown of concentration made him realize she was talking to herself. He knew she did that sometimes when she was trying to get in the mind of UnSubs or victims.

"How did you communicate with…?" Hotch trailed off, realizing that he couldn't remember the guy's name, but it brought her attention back to the present and she threw him a quick, cool look, which was enough to make him realize that she was still mad at him. He wasn't sure he understood her reasons, and that troubled him. He had done what he had to protect her.

"My cell phone, but my line was secure…"

Hotch rubbed a hand over his mouth. "We'll check. I also think we have to assume that he knows where you're staying. We'll have to go over our safe house options. Morgan, let's go to the BAU first, meet the others over there."

"Got it."

Hotch grabbed his phone and updated Rossi on their meeting location, asking him to relay the information to the others.

"Why did he send you the pictures?" Prentiss asked once he'd hung up. She was focusing on the job - he could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she frowned in concentration - and he admired her ability to compartmentalize and set her anger aside. He, on the other hand, found himself having a hard time letting it go. He took a deep breath.

"What do you mean?"

"He must have known you guys would come get me and usher me away. So why send you the pictures? Why risk this opportunity by allowing someone to get to me in time?"

"I don't know, maybe he wasn't counting on me dispatching responders so quickly or getting there so fast, I- I drove kind of fast." He heard her quiet snort, but when he threw her a look he realized that she was smiling – a tiny quirk of the lips at the corner of her mouth. Derisive or amused? He couldn't tell. He returned his gaze back to the night sky. "I don't know. Maybe he's waiting for something else. We let our guards down tonight, so maybe he's hoping that we'll do the same mistake again."

"We? You mean me."

Hotch threw her another look, but her face was turned away from him, so he couldn't tell if she was angry or just being rhetorical. He hadn't meant to sound like this, but then he realized that deep down he _did_ resent her for taking such a bold chance with her life. God damn it! What had she been thinking?

And if he was honest with himself, the fact that she had been on a date bothered him more than he liked to admit. He hated himself for it, but seeing her laughing and relaxed, looking beautiful and smelling – God help him – wonderfully sensual and exotic, he couldn't help the stab of envy that pierced his chest. He knew that his infatuation with her – or whatever the hell had been going on over the last few weeks – would lead to nowhere, he _knew_ that. And despite his conflicting emotions, he really wanted her to be happy; he didn't want her to one day look back on her life and realize that she'd missed out on the things that mattered because her job got in the way. A family, kids, love… She deserved it all, and he didn't want to stand in the way of that.

He sighed. "No, I mean 'we.' I told you before Prentiss, you're a part of this team, and whatever happens to you happens to the rest of us." He returned his eyes to her face and was surprised to find her already looking at him, with an expression he couldn't read. "Your safety is my responsibility. I should have seen this coming, but I'm afraid I haven't been very attentive lately."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Hotch, I really do, but I'm a grown woman," she stated patiently, but he could hear the underlying frustration in the way her words were uttered slowly and deliberately. "I make my own decisions – stop acting like what's happening is your fault, because it's not."

"Hey Prentiss, was your phone off tonight?" Morgan asked suddenly from the front seat, and Hotch wasn't sure if he welcomed the intrusion in the conversation or not.

"Of course not, I took every precautions, I even had Mansfield accompany me on a _date_, for God's sake," she said as she dug through her purse and got her cell out, snapping it open with a flick of the thumb. She sighed. "Battery's dead. I'm sorry guys, I should have checked…"

"Yes, you should have." Hotch regretted the accusatory tone as soon as the words left his mouth and he saw her pained and angry expression. He pursed his lips and looked out the window again.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Now we find the son-of-a-bitch," Morgan said with conviction when Hotch remained silent. But he couldn't have expressed it better himself.

* * *

The air tingled with a mix of adrenaline, exhaustion and restlessness at the BAU. Every member of the team was on edge, and Hotch was the first to admit that he wasn't sure what to do next, he was becoming too personally involved in the situation, so he remained silent, standing by himself next to the window while he listened to the others.

They all agreed that Prentiss couldn't stay at the hotel anymore, but there was now a lively debate between Rossi and Morgan about setting up a bait situation (Morgan) or go about this the same way they would other cases – with an investigation based on a profile (Rossi).

As they debated between themselves, Hotch observed the other members of his team. Reid was sitting quietly, going over Norland's case file, apparently not paying much attention to the conversation – though with him one never knew. Garcia looked horrified from where she was sitting next to Morgan, her eyes jumping from Morgan to Rossi as she followed the discussion, as if watching a tennis match, but she didn't actively participate. JJ was nursing her tea, looking worried, and every once in a while rubbing a hand over Prentiss's back.

And Prentiss… Prentiss was sitting with her legs folded against her chest, her arms around her shins and her chin resting on her knees. She'd changed into a more appropriate attire but to Hotch the ponytail, jeans and hoody vest made her look younger and more vulnerable somehow, and for a second he envied JJ's ability to physically demonstrate her support. Despite her staring into space, he could tell that she was paying attention to the conversation by the way she would sometimes shake her head or heave a sigh. It pained him that she wasn't fighting for what _she_ wanted, instead quietly letting the rest of her team decide on a course of actions that could have serious repercussions on her life. Was that his doing? Had he somehow convinced her that she didn't have a say in what was going on? That hadn't been his intention – he'd only wanted to make her realize the danger she was in and protect her from it.

"Hotch, you haven't said anything, what do you think?" Rossi suddenly asked.

Keeping his eyes on Emily, he redirected the question, raising his eyebrows. "Prentiss?"

She looked up at him in surprise and he thought he could understand her feeling – they had had this conversation only a few hours before and they both knew what the other thought best; she wanted to be used as bait, Hotch thought it was too risky. But looking at her tonight, sitting there quietly, it made him realize that as much as he wanted to protect her, this was her life, and ultimately she was the one to decide. And he was telling her that now – whatever she chose to do, he would support her. He wished he could do more for her, but he cared too much for her to pull rank at a moment like this. And he valued her judgment too much to pretend that he had a clearer understanding of the situation than she did.

Letting go of her legs, she sat straighter as she held his gaze. "I know it's risky, but I'd like to set up a bait situation," she said and Hotch looked down as he released his breath. He had expected it, but had still hoped that she would have changed her mind. "Hear me out, guys," she added quickly. "All we have to rely on to find him is the old case file, but we've all looked at the damn file from every possible angle at least five times over. With the change of location and no new victims that match Norland's MO, we have no new information on how he's been living, what he's been doing – we have no starting point for an investigation except for the photos. But, we know that he's smart, methodical and patient, and so far we've played along, but I'm getting tired of looking over my shoulder and second-guessing myself every time I walk out of my hotel room. He's been enjoying the wait, but he knows that he won't get that many chances, so if we make him believe that we let our guards down again, he might jump at the occasion."

"You sure about this? You know what he's capable of," Rossi said.

Hotch returned his gaze towards her at this, wondering how she would react to that. She laughed wryly. "Yeah." Her eyes fell on the folder between Reid's hands, and her wan smile slowly disappeared. "And the only way to stop him is to provoke him – and make sure we're ready for him."

"I agree with Emily," Reid suddenly said as he closed the folder and dropped it on the table. "Without more recent victims in the area, the probabilities of getting a geographical profile right are astronomical."

"You guys know that I agree with that, so what about you, Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"I respect Prentiss's decision," he said and he saw her release a relieved sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath. "But may I suggest that we don't do it right away? Let him think that he's succeeded at intimidating us-"

"He has," Garcia interjected, but Hotch went on.

"- because if we do this now, he'll never buy it. No one would let their guards down again so soon after a night like tonight. Not even us. Especially not us."

"What do you suggest we do in the meantime?" JJ asked.

"We need a case."

"What?" That came from Morgan.

"We need a case that'll take us away for a few days."

"A real case or a cover up?" Reid asked.

"Doesn't matter. As long as Norland thinks we're behaving like he expects us to. While we're away, Prentiss will be safe from him, and it'll give us time to come up with a workable plan."

"Maybe we should split up," Morgan suggested. "Some of us could go to wherever we're needed, while the rest of us accompany Prentiss to a safe house."

"I'd rather work a case than stay God knows how long in a safe house," Prentiss interrupted. "Especially if I have to live with Morgan," she added teasingly.

"Ouch," Morgan retorted as his clutched his chest with his hand.

"Prentiss is right, I think we need to stay together," Hotch interrupted the banter, "but she will have to keep a low profile, no public appearances. No one can know she's there with us. Remember, Norland has to think that we're behaving as he expects us to, that we're hiding Prentiss to protect her."

He saw six heads nod in agreement. Good, they were agreeing on something at last.

"JJ, do you think any of the requests you've reviewed recently could take us far enough away, while still being a BAU case?"

"I'll go over the files again," she said as she rose to her feet and left in the direction of her office.

"In the meantime, it's late. We should all get some sleep. Reid and I will accompany Prentiss to the safe house and I'll request some more agents to escort us there."

"I'll stay with JJ, look over the files with her and make sure she gets home and gets some rest," Rossi added as he rose to his feet.

"Good, let's reconvene tomorrow morning at 10am, as usual." Just at that moment, his cell phone rang, and he answered, his face falling as he heard the news from the police officer. Oh God… He hung up with a deep sigh.

"Hold on, everybody." He threw a brief look at Prentiss's curious eyes, but then looked down at the phone between his fingers. "Agent Mansfield was shot tonight, he died in the ambulance."

* * *

After going over the safe house options with the security department of the FBI, they opted for a house located about two hours away, deep in rural Virginia, at least for this one night. The drive there was spent mostly in silence, as Reid had fallen asleep, he and Prentiss were lost in their own thoughts and the escorting agents just weren't very talkative.

The news of Agent Mansfield's death had affected everyone deeply, but Prentiss took it the hardest. It was no surprise, as she knew him better than the rest of them, so Hotch kept to himself during those few hours, allowing her some private space to cope with the news. He thought he heard her sniff quietly a few times, and he'd had to fight the urge to bridge the gap between them and put his arms around her at the sound.

They got to the house around 2am and after the security agents secured the perimeter, Hotch followed Prentiss and Reid inside. Reid sleepwalked to one of the bedrooms while one of the agents got their groceries from the car and dropped them in Hotch's arms. "Here's the food and your radio, we'll keep an open channel all night."

"Thanks."

The house was small and basic, but it had a couch and TV in the living room and all the necessities in the kitchen. As he busied himself with putting away the groceries, Hotch saw Prentiss slowly wander around the living room, looking exhausted with her red eyes and pale skin. She looked almost lost as she walked around, right arm around her waist as if to protect herself, while she bit her left thumbnail nervously. As he put on the kettle for some tea, he saw her finally settle down on the couch, gathering her legs to her body and holding her knees to her chest.

Once tea was ready, Hotch joined her and handed her a cup as he sat beside her. They sipped at their tea in silence for a few seconds.

"You're not going to lecture me about getting some sleep?" she asked suddenly.

He tore his eyes away from the amber liquid in his cup and glanced at her. Her gaze was still full of sadness, but at least there were traces of her usual humor in her eyes now. He admired her for it. He raised an eyebrow. "I learned a long time ago that my lectures don't have the desired effect on you, Prentiss."

She snorted. "That has never stopped you before."

Hotch played along, drawn by the twinkle in her eyes. A part of him wanted to forget how angry he had been at her recklessness, so he tried to focus on the present moment. "Alright then, but you asked for it. You should get some sleep, Prentiss," he said in as stern a voice as he could.

She smiled sweetly and took a sip of tea. "Reid crashed in the bed I wanted."

He smiled at the image. "Your very own Goldilocks, huh?"

Her brief and quiet chuckle sounded genuine and Hotch's smile widened slightly at the sound. Her laugh echoed softly in the quiet house and, as he glanced at her, Hotch was suddenly reminded why he had kept her at arms length over the last few weeks. Her eyes were dark and soulful, the pale skin of her neck looked incredibly soft and inviting and her hair looked silky to the touch as it curled into her ponytail. He wasn't sure how she could achieve it, but she looked both strong and vulnerable as she sat beside him, more comfortable and relaxed than he had seen her in over a month.

She felt safe around him, he realized, but with the way his hand twitched to reach out to touch her, he wasn't sure he deserved her trust. He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry about Mansfield," he said.

She sighed, the smile on her lips turning melancholy. "Yeah, me too. He was a good guy. And a great agent."

Hotch nodded in agreement, but said nothing. There just wasn't anything else meaningful to say.

"Thanks for letting me call Matt, make sure he was safe. I needed that."

Hotch nodded. "Of course. Did you tell him to leave town for a few days?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"He thought you were my ex or something," she said after a beat.

Taken aback, Hotch didn't dare look at her. "Really?"

"Yeah, isn't that funny?" she asked with an incredulous chuckle, as if it was an entirely ridiculous notion.

It probably was. Hotch nodded into his cup, trying to mimic her chuckle. He wasn't so sure he was very successful at it. "Yeah…"

"Though, I guess all things considered it's probably a more plausible explanation than me being threatened by a sadistic sociopath."

Feeling suddenly very awkward, Hotch just nodded, unsure what to say. The moment seemed to pass on its own as Prentiss became lost in thought once more and they both returned to their silent drinking. While Hotch enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment, there was still something awkward about the silence, and not just because of that last part of the conversation. Despite her being somewhat relaxed in his company, there was still some kind of wave of energy emanating from her, and he wasn't sure if it was from residual anger towards him or just from the night's stressful events. Whatever it was, he didn't know what to say to alleviate some of the tension.

"Hotch," she started after a moment, the hesitancy in her voice making him look in her direction. She was staring down at the tea between her hands, her long fingers toying with the rim nervously. "Thanks for letting me make the decision tonight. I know that what I decided goes against your instincts, so… it means a lot to me."

Hotch merely nodded. There was no way he could explain to her that he had done so because he cared about her. If he hadn't made that decision to support her tonight, he knew she would have resented him for it eventually, and it would have put a severe damper on their friendship for a long time. Was it selfish of him to let her risk her life in order to protect their relationship? He thought so, especially since putting their relationship above work meant relinquishing some of his protective responsibilities as her boss. He knew he might regret it bitterly if this didn't go as planned, but as he sat close beside her, he realized that right then he didn't want to act as her boss. He wanted to act as something that wasn't impeded by ranks and hierarchy and chains of command. He wanted it so much that it stunned him.

She shifted around so that she was facing him, resting her temple against the back cushion. She looked exhausted, but he understood why she probably couldn't sleep even if she tried. What had happened tonight… it was a lot to deal with. He wasn't sure he could sleep himself.

"Emily, there's something I need to know…" he started after a moment. "Did you go on a date to provoke Norland?"

She tensed and straightened her back. "No." Her voice had lost its former relaxed tone, and Hotch could tell that he had offended her. He felt like an ass for angering her again, but he _had_ to know.

"No, I went on a date because I'm sick of being scared and alone." She sprung to her feet and started pacing, talking animatedly. "You know, when I started this job I promised myself that I wouldn't let the horrors we see get under my skin." She chuckled wryly. "That was probably impossible from the start, but usually I can deal with it just fine. I'm getting pretty good at reminding myself that people are not all bad or in violent psychotic breaks, but Norland… he just made that impossible for me anymore. He's made the horrors a part of me, and I _hate_ him for it, and I _hate_ that I feel this way!" Hotch felt his heart hit his toes at the emotion in her voice and the sadness in her eyes. "So tonight I decided that if all I could do was wait for him to find me," she continued resolutely, "then I wouldn't let that stop me from living my life. I decided that I wasn't going to let myself be intimidated and afraid anymore."

She rubbed her forehead and blew out a long sigh. "Look, I know not telling you where I was going wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I _was_ being cautious." She sat back down on the couch and rested her head in her palm, her elbow raised on the armrest. "Do you think Mansfield died because of me?" she asked coolly, her eyes stubbornly on the wall ahead, and Hotch had to fight the impulse to reach out to touch her. _She wouldn't put up with it_. That's what Dave had said a few weeks before, and Hotch was starting to understand what he had meant.

"No," he replied sternly. "Prentiss, don't even go there," he warned. "You know that nothing of what's been happening is your fault."

She nodded slowly. "I know." She sighed. "I know. But it still feels like it is, you know?"

Oh he knew. He had lived with that same guilt for months and months. But he had learned that thinking about the what-ifs didn't change anything – it didn't alleviate the pain, the opposite in fact – and in the end feeling guilty didn't accomplish anything.

She sighed and turned her head in his direction again. "I'm sorry about before."

That was unexpected, so he met her eyes curiously. "What do you mean?"

"At the restaurant, I'm sorry I doubted you. I thought you were angry at me for going out on a date."

Hotch smiled wryly into his cup. Oh if she only knew… No way was he going to let her know, though. He shook his head and tried to look confused as he looked down at the warm cup between his fingers. "Why would I be mad about that?"

"I guess what I mean is I should have known you had a legitimate reason to show up. I'm sorry."

He probably should have felt insulted that she had assumed him to be acting irrationally, but she was right. Part of his anger at finding her at the restaurant _had_ been irrational. He had acted on instincts alone, driven by his fear for her life and slight envy for the man she was sharing flirty smiles with. He shook the thought away. "Your reaction was perfectly understandable. I'm sorry I interrupted your dinner, but you weren't answering your phone and I had to get you out of there."

He almost jumped when her fingers touched his arm and circled around his wrist just below his rolled up sleeve. His eyes snapped to hers in surprise at the burning sensation of the contact; he could tell that she had been about to speak, but no sound passed her lips when their eyes met. He felt her grip loosen without completely letting go, her index finger resting just over his pulse. He watched, mesmerized, her comforting expression turning serious as she registered his own intense expression, and then transforming into curiosity as she tilted her head to the side and held his gaze. At that moment he thought he could never tire of looking into those dark eyes and of being slowly and irrevocably pulled in.

He had never allowed himself to seriously consider the possibility before, but at that moment he found himself wanting to bridge the short distance that separated them, put his arms around her and pull her close. He wanted to kiss her, but more than that, he wanted to hold her, comfort her... It must have shown on his face, because her curious gaze suddenly morphed again, this time into a mix of confusion and – God help him – desire. Behind her bemusement, he could detect signs that she was as affected by the moment as he was – her eyes darkened, her cheeks flushed and he could tell that she was holding her breath.

He leaned a little closer almost unconsciously, half expecting her to retreat, but she stayed where she was, still regarding him with eyes that seemed to be getting darker and darker. His hand shifted of its own volition so that his fingers brushed against her palm and the inside of her wrist and the desire to bridge the gap between them intensified as he felt her shiver at the feather-light caress. But before he could act on it, her expression turned into shock and it was enough to make him fully realize what he was doing. Or had been about to do.

He tore his gaze away from hers and jumped to his feet and away from her side, breaking the spell of the moment. Good God, what had he been thinking? This was dangerous, uncharted territory that had a big DANGER sign on it! All this time he'd been telling himself that all he wanted was to save their friendship, and he had almost done the one thing that could have cost him her trust! What a hypocrite! He took two steps back and raked a hand through his hair, trying to regain some composure.

When he looked back up at her, she was still staring at him with wide, astonished eyes. Good God, she really hadn't been aware of his attraction to her before this moment, had she? He almost laughed derisively at himself at the realization. If only he had kept himself in check, she would still be blissfully ignorant. Damn it, he had almost _kissed_ her! He knew he had to formulate an explanation or an apology or _something_, but where to start?

"I um… Sorry, I…" He frowned at his lack of eloquence. He used to be a prosecutor, for God's sake, talking had always been easy for him, why was this suddenly so hard? He cleared his throat. "Prentiss… Emily," he corrected himself, "I apologize, I was way out of line, I-"

"Hotch," she interrupted from where she sat unmoving on the couch. Her shocked expression had disappeared and she now looked serious and confident - similar to a look that the Agent Prentiss who chased down serial killers, who carried a gun, who could show compassion and understanding to people on their worst day of their lives, would wear. "Do we have cards around here?"

"Excuse me?"

"Let's play cards," she suggested as she rose to her feet and wandered about the room, apparently in search of a deck of cards.

Hotch frowned in puzzlement as he watched her move across the room and into the kitchen. "Emily, this is important, we need to-"

"Come on Hotch, just one game."

Perplexed by her reaction, Hotch watched her for a few more seconds, suddenly reluctant to spend more time alone with her tonight. Hell, how could _she_ want to still be in his presence after what almost happened? "Prentiss, we both really should get some sleep, it's-"

"Ah ha! Found one!" she cried from the kitchen. She walked back into the living room with a triumphant smile that showed her dimples, presenting him with her findings. "Shall we?" she asked as she sat back down on the couch.

"Prentiss…" he said, half warning, half pleading.

She met his eyes, suddenly dead serious. "Hotch. Let's just play, please."

There was something pleading in the way she was steadily holding his gaze, and then it suddenly all made sense to him: her fear of being alone apparently outweighed whatever harm he had done to her trust in him… Not that she would ever admit any of that out loud. Sighing in defeat, Hotch sat back down next to her, though not as close as before.

"Fine. But no cheating."

* * *

End part 4


	6. Part 5

Here we go, another part for you guys! I'm still working on the final chapters, but I'm thinking there will be 8 parts, plus maybe an epilogue. Anyways, hope you enjoy Emily's reaction, plus a little story development :-)

**Part 5**

Kahlil Gibran once wrote: "Reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction."

* * *

When Emily opened her eyes, she found herself mere inches away from Hotch's face, close enough that she could feel his breath against her hair when he exhaled. Seeing with relief that he was still asleep, she carefully put some distance between them, but stayed where she was, sitting sideways on the couch, and took this rare opportunity to observe him undetected.

They had played cards for an hour or so, acting as if nothing had happened between them, even though Emily could feel him staring at her every once in a while. But she had been determined to keep the mood light and forget what had happened. It was nothing; a mere moment of weakness between a man and a woman. It happened all the time within law enforcement teams and partnerships. No big deal. It was just easier to ignore it, and although Hotch had given a half-assed attempt at convincing her to talk about it, she was pretty sure he wanted to forget about the incident just as much as she did.

At one point during their game, she had gone to the kitchen for a tea refill only to return and find him fast asleep, his hand still loosely holding his cards. And he had been winning too. So Emily had sat back down with a sigh, tired as hell, but somewhat reluctant to go to her room. So she had leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. The last thing she remembered was wondering how Hotch could sleep with his tie still neatly secured around his neck, and really wanting to unfasten the knot.

From the weak light shining through the windows now, Emily could tell it was just after dawn, so they could only have slept for a couple of hours. Returning her eyes to the man sleeping at her side, she sighed softly to herself. As much as she wanted to forget about what had happened, she couldn't help feeling curious about what had been going on in Hotch's head last night. She'd had enough romance in her life to recognize desire when she saw it, and she had definitely seen it in his eyes. What astounded her was that it was the first time she had ever seen him look at her this way, except… Except she now recalled that he had bore that same look in his office, just the day before, prior to their argument. And that dark, intense look on the plane back from Colorado that had left her breathless? Yes, she could now remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday. There had been longing in these looks, but she hadn't recognized what kind of longing at the time, because frankly she had been annoyed as hell by his constant aloofness. His coldness towards her over the last few weeks suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

But as much as she wanted to believe that last night's incident was nothing more than a moment of weakness, deep down she had trouble believing that Hotch would let go of his legendary self-control just for a passing fling. He was always so careful not to cross the line, to never show affection beyond the concern of a team leader, that Emily felt like it would take more than her touching his arm to make him loosen the tight grasp he had on his self-control. And because he had never really shown any signs of feeling anything for her more than professional friendship, his sudden attentions were totally unexpected. Not that they had been totally unwelcome – in fact Emily was trying with all her might to avoid thinking about how thrilled and curious she had been, and how much she had actually wanted him to kiss her.

God! What a mess! In truth she had never really seen him in this way before last night, never seriously considered the possibility, so her body's coming alive at his touch had been totally unexpected. And he had barely touched her! She felt her cheeks flush at the memory and shook herself.

The question now was: what the hell was she going to do?

Pretending that it didn't mean anything was probably a good short-term solution, but she knew she couldn't ignore it forever. Stuff like that had a tendency to come back to bite her in the ass, and she wasn't ready to let something like that risk her future at the BAU. Besides, she knew him well enough to know that he probably wouldn't leave it alone.

If she was honest with herself, she was flattered by his attentions, and knowing that he found her attractive made her start to ponder about her own feelings. Hotch was… well, not really her type – then again she didn't have a very good track record – but she had always thought of him as quite a catch, despite his seriousness, emotional detachment and damn need to save everyone. He was a brilliant, driven, attractive man and despite their mutual distrust when she had first joined the team, she had always been attracted to his intensity, integrity and passion for his work. But he was still her boss, and not only did it go against Bureau policy, it could also have serious repercussions on the team. And Hotch was more than aware of that, she had seen it on his face as he'd all but jumped away from her. When had he started seeing her in that way, she wondered?

Clinking noises from the kitchen startled her, and she straightened her back to have a look. Reid was making coffee, and Emily blushed at the realization that he must have seen them sleeping close together on his way to the kitchen. Shaking the embarrassment away, after all there had been nothing too compromising in their positions, she rose to her feet and walked to join him, stretching the sore muscles of her neck in the process.

"Good morning."

He smiled at her quickly as he filled up the coffee pot with water. "Hey! Sorry I fell asleep so early last night, I really wanted to stay up and keep you company but…"

Emily smiled. "Reid, it wasn't early, even by BAU standards. And I'm glad at least one of us got a good night's sleep." She patted his shoulder and he gave her a quick smile in reply. "Alright, I'm going to shower. Save some of that caffeine for me!" she said as she walked away.

When she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, feeling somewhat refreshed and ready to face a new day, Hotch was up and talking on the phone in the living room, while Reid sat quietly at the kitchen table, reading as he ate breakfast.

Emily helped herself to some coffee and tried not to react when Hotch walked up to her side and stretched his arm in front of her to get himself a mug. She poured him some coffee before he had a chance to ask.

"Did you get some sleep?" he asked for her ears only, and Emily fought a shiver at the gravelly sound of his morning voice. She threw him a quick glance, but immediately regretted it. She had never seen him with stubble before, and she found it disturbingly alluring and… intimate. God, she had to stop this! If she wanted to ignore the incident, she had to stop coming up with fantasy material.

"Some. You?"

He let out a short chuckle that came out more as a snort. "Apparently." He turned his head in her direction as he leaned his hands against the counter. "I'm sorry, I meant to stay awake and keep watch, but I-"

Emily chuckled briefly at his echoing Reid's apology. "It's okay. You needed the sleep, and I went to bed right after I found you snoring on the couch," she said cheekily. It was a tiny lie, but he didn't need to know how closely together they had spent the night.

"Liar." He snorted as he added some half and half to his coffee. Emily almost chocked on her own beverage before he added: "I don't snore."

"Yes you do," Reid supplied from where he was sitting and Emily smiled at Hotch's dumbfounded expression, as if surprised that Reid had been listening in on the conversation.

"Well anyway," he turned completely serious again, "I just talked to JJ, we have a case in Arizona. Kidnapping. It just came up this morning." He gave her a grave look as he pursed his lips. "And I thought you'd want to know… Agent Mansfield's funeral will be held the day after tomorrow."

Emily's face fell. "Hotch, I need to be there."

He looked at her somberly for a second. "I know. We'll discuss this later."

She held his gaze, then nodded reluctantly. He took a sip from his coffee before walking to get his bag next to the couch. "I'll be ready to leave in ten minutes. Start packing whenever you're ready." He walked to the bathroom and closed the door.

While Hotch was getting ready, the two security agents reported back. Apparently everything had gone smoothly during the night and there had been no sign of anyone coming near the house. It was reassuring, but Emily was still eager to leave town for a few days and be away from it all. How lucky she was to have the chance to get away almost on a weekly basis, even when it was to chase after psychopaths.

True to his word, Hotch exited the bathroom ten minutes later, showered, clean-shaven and wearing a different suit. He helped them pack what little they had and minutes later the car was loaded and ready to go. This time Hotch sat at the front with one of the security agents, and Emily was a little relieved that he didn't take this opportunity to try and have a talk. Oh she knew that he would never mention what had almost happened between them in public, even less in front of three agents, but he might still try to convince her not to attend Mansfield's funeral. And that was out of the question.

Emily tried to use the drive back to Quantico to catch up on some sleep, but she could only manage a few minutes here and there. Once at the BAU, they didn't lose anytime and met with the others for the briefing. Judging by the grave looks on everyone's faces, Emily and Hotch weren't the only ones who had little sleep last night. While JJ briefed them on their kidnapping case, Emily tried to shift her focus and give the case her undivided attention. Kidnappings were always rough, so she knew she had to prepare herself mentally for the chaos and worry that would greet them in Arizona.

The flight was spent going over victimology, and Emily was relieved to see that Hotch seemed to be entirely focused on the case. No trace of awkwardness or tension on his part, no stolen looks or avoidance whatsoever. Good. Maybe she had misjudged him and read too much into his behavior after all. Maybe it hadn't meant anything.

Because of the nature of the case, Garcia stayed with her super computers in Quantico, but Hotch still insisted that Emily work the case as covertly as possible, so when they arrived, she settled at a desk at the police station with Reid.

As expected, finding the two missing girls and their kidnapper was emotionally distressing, stressful and daunting, and more than once Emily felt like she should be out there with the others, helping with the interviews. But she knew that working on the geographical profile and victimology with Reid was as important as anything else, so she pushed those feelings aside and kept working. Time was always of the essence in kidnapping cases, so they all worked well into the night, until they finally made some progress at finding a viable suspect. This is when her day at the station finally paid off and her and Reid's profile provided vital information for Garcia to find the girls' possible location. Emily waited anxiously while the others raided the location, and when she received the call around 4am that they had found the girls alive and had arrested the perp, it was all it took for her not to burst into tears of relief.

When the rest of the team got back to the station, exhausted but elated, Hotch ordered them all to check into their hotel and get some sleep, as their plane wasn't scheduled to leave until noon.

Emily mentally rolled her eyes when Hotch and Dave insisted that they enter her hotel room first to make sure it was clear, but deep down she was grateful for the gesture. It was probably her exhaustion talking, but these days she saw danger everywhere, so it was good to have clear-headed professionals making up for her growing paranoia.

"Room's clear," Hotch said as he walked back into the corridor, holstering his gun. "Dave will take first watch, call him if anything happens." The man in question met with them just as Hotch was finishing his sentence.

"You guys don't have to keep watch," Emily protested, "you need rest just as much as I do, I-"

"Just humor me, Prentiss," Hotch said sternly.

"We all know you'll be fine," Dave started with a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, "but do us all a favor and allow _Hotch_ to get some sleep, you know he'll only rest if he knows there's someone making sure you're safe."

He winked as he walked away, patting Hotch's shoulder on the way.

Emily smiled as she redirected her gaze to Hotch and saw him purse his lips at the older man's teasing, the gesture revealing his dimples. "Well, if it would make _you_ feel better…" Emily added playfully.

He merely narrowed his eyes. "As a matter of fact, it would." He gave her a curt nod, and for a moment seemed to consider saying more, but then closed his mouth again. "Sleep well."

"Hotch!" she called just as he was about to turn on his heels. He half-turned to look at her, but the apprehensive and guarded expression on his face took her aback – what was he so afraid of? She sighed. "About Mansfield's funeral?"

"Later, Prentiss. Get some sleep."

* * *

The several hours of sleep and the successful outcome of their case helped improve everybody's mood, so that the rest of the team were much more chipper on the flight back to DC than they had been on their flight West. Emily herself had slept a restless sleep that did nothing to alleviate her weariness. Instead the adrenaline drop and fitful rest just left her completely drained. Though she felt like she had been jittery for months now, today she felt like the only thing keeping her awake was caffeine and her unshakable sense of hyper-vigilance. So she tried to relax as well as she could on the plane, playing cards with Dave, Reid and JJ. But despite the relaxed atmosphere, she just wasn't into it.

She really wanted to go to Mansfield's funeral the next day, and she kept trying to come up with the best way to convince Hotch that it was a good idea. The only thing she could think of was if they decided to set up their bait situation at the funeral, but she hated the idea. It was disrespectful to Mansfield, his family and those who were going to pay their respects to the fallen agent. But how else was she to go, short of using a disguise? And that was so not an option. She wanted to go as herself, and show Mansfield's family how very sorry she was for his loss, and do it in person.

"Em, it's your turn," JJ said, bringing her back to the present.

"Oh, sorry…" she looked down at her cards and frowned. "Ah, you know what, I'm not really into it – hey Derek, come and take my place?"

She rose to her feet and gave her cards to Morgan as he dropped himself into her seat. "Prentiss, what's this? And you call yourself a good card player?" he said indignantly.

Emily gave an apologetic shrug as she walked to the back to make herself some tea.

"Everything alright?"

His low voice just inches from her ear made her jump out of her skin, so much so that she missed her aim and poured hot water on the counter instead of into her cup. "Yeah! Yeah, everything's fine."

"You're determined to go?" he stated more than asked as he got two tea bags from the box and handed her her favorite brand.

She sighed at how well he knew her – or probably how accurate his profile of her was. "I owe it to him Hotch, and to his family."

He nodded briefly. "You do realize that it was probably Norland's plan all along?"

Emily turned to look at him with wide eyes. "You think he killed Mansfield to lure me in?"

"Yes, I do. He's setting up his own bait situation. He's created an event for which he's sure you'll show up – he's set up the perfect time and place."

"God, you're right!" she cried. "How could I have missed this!" she said angrily as she walked back to sit on the wide seat. Hotch sat across from her, and she could tell that they now had everybody else's attention as well. "Damn it! Why didn't I see it?"

"What's up, guys?" Morgan asked curiously.

Emily felt Hotch's eyes on her for a second, but when she didn't look up or reply, he answered in her stead. "I- we believe that Norland planned Mansfield's murder and funeral to lure Prentiss in. Sending me the restaurant photos and Mansfield's murder make no sense otherwise."

The others exchanged concerned looks. "So how can we make sure it's safe enough for Prentiss to go?" Morgan asked and Emily felt her heart swell at his support. He knew her well enough to know she'd want to go at all cost.

"We have to be careful," Rossi said slowly, warningly. "This guy's smart – he's meticulous and apparently has been planning this for months. What makes us think we can outsmart him at his own game?"

"But if we know what he's planning, we can be ready for it," Morgan protested.

"But we don't," Hotch retorted, "not really. We only know he's planning _something_. We're not even sure what he wants from Prentiss."

Emily blew out a sigh. "I saw the bodies, read the details in the report Hotch, I have a pretty good idea what he wants from me." She shivered at the thought.

"I'm not so sure our profile is quite complete yet," he replied. "For one, he's almost completely changed his MO by killing Mansfield, by sending the photos. He's been stalking you, yes, but he's also included the rest of us into his fantasy. And we all agreed that this is not regular stalking behavior. There has to be something more he wants from us."

"Is that supposed to make us feel better?" JJ asked with a grimace.

"I'm just saying that as much as we think we can predict his next moves, there's another side of him that we didn't see the first time around. And that could bite us in the ass when we least expect it."

"Okay, so what have we learned since he started stalking Prentiss that we didn't know before?" Dave asked as he set down his cards.

"Mansfield was killed from a gunshot wound," Morgan started, "that means the killer didn't feel comfortable attacking him in a close combat fashion as he does with women."

"He wasn't afraid to get physical with you though, Morgan," Reid reminded him.

"So maybe killing men just doesn't give him the same amount of pleasure as torturing women," Dave said. "Killing Mansfield was a means to an end, not a pleasure kill."

"Okay, so he's ready to do anything to get Prentiss's attention," Morgan summarized.

"Not just Prentiss. All of our attention," Hotch corrected. "We need to figure out why he made us a part of his fantasy as well, and why he thinks that by getting to Prentiss he gets to us all."

"She's a part of the team, of course it gets to us all," Dave said as he gave Emily a nod.

"And I did have kind of a personal connection with him," she added as she recalled that day in front of the shed. "I challenged him. And because we almost caught him, he's been forced to hide from everybody and probably hasn't been able to indulge in his urges to kill women. We took his hunting ground away from him that day."

"So he's angry and probably resents us, with particular hatred for Prentiss," Dave surmised.

"You said so yourself, Emily," Hotch chimed in. "You challenged him; a woman that fits his victimology had the upper hand. That must have destabilized the basis of his delusions."

"But I didn't have the upper hand," Emily countered.

"Maybe not physically, but he knew he couldn't seduce you like the others because you knew who he was, that was probably enough," Reid said.

"Are you saying he doesn't see her as one of his potential victims anymore?" Dave asked.

Hotch shrugged lightly and met Emily's gaze briefly before his eyes darted away. "He certainly sees her as someone he needs to punish or prove to himself that he can have, but I don't think he sees her as one of his previous victims, no. The game isn't about the seduction anymore, it's about the challenge, and punishing those who have doubted him."

"And that's exactly what we did…" Reid finished for him.

"Okay, so where does that leave us for the funeral tomorrow?" Morgan asked. "He wants to prove to himself that he's better than we are. So what's he planning to accomplish that?"

"Maybe it doesn't matter," Dave started, with that look that said he suddenly had an idea. "Whatever he's planning, maybe we can beat him to it."

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked.

"We know that he's been planning this for a long time, and we know that he's very patient… Odds are that he'll show up at the location of his choice long before the actual event in order to make sure everything is going as planned. What if we show up even earlier, and wait for him for a change?"

"How can we figure out where he's more likely to be?" JJ asked, sounding dubious.

"He'll want to be part of the event," Reid said, "so it's likely that he'll physically be at the cemetery, but also just far enough not to be noticed. He'll expect us to be careful and on our guard, so he won't risk getting too close too fast."

"When we get to Quantico, Reid, Dave and I will go to the cemetery and map out probable locations," Hotch said. Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Hotch beat her to it, probably thinking she was about to protest. "Prentiss, JJ and Morgan, stay at the BAU until we get back and we can plan this out. Garcia, you'll set up your own surveillance room in your office and coordinate with ours."

* * *

So it was that once at the BAU Emily watched the three profilers get a team of carefully assorted agents ready to accompany them to the cemetery, arranging some basic disguises in case the UnSub was around. They also had backup agents in a surveillance van, along with every surveillance technology the FBI could get its hands on. Emily knew it was childish, but she felt a little left out and almost insisted on joining the backup crew. But she realized that 1) Hotch wouldn't let her, and 2) that she was probably too tired to make life-or-death decisions or think fast on her feet. So she kept her mouth shut as she watched Hotch dispatch orders, outline a reconnaissance strategy and lay down worse case scenarios.

As they were getting ready to leave, Emily approached Hotch, Dave and Reid.

"You guys be careful, alright?" she said as she helped Reid with the Velcro ties of his vest.

"Of course," Hotch replied as he put on a sweatshirt over his vest, then covered his dark head with a baseball cap. Emily was momentarily taken aback at how unassuming that made him look.

"Seriously," she insisted as she met his eyes. "Be careful. And update us as often as possible," she all but pleaded as she picked his holstered gun from the table and handed it to him. She felt a little foolish for giving him orders, but decided it was his price to pay for leaving her out of the operation.

He took the gun from her hands and Emily couldn't help but notice the way his eyes darted down as their fingers brushed. And _that_, right there, the fact that he had felt _something_ at the brief contact, made her heart skip a beat and brought warmth to her cheeks. He cleared his throat and nodded as he placed the gun at his waist, hidden underneath the sweater. "Will do."

"Don't worry about us," Dave added in a warmer tone. "We'll be back before you know it. And then we'll get the son of a bitch."

"Good luck," she said.

They nodded, and Hotch gave the okay for the team to leave. Emily let out a sigh after watching them leave, and returned to her desk, throwing a look at Morgan on her way. He looked just as edgy as she felt, and she was pretty sure Hotch had ordered him to stay at the BAU to keep an eye on her. She wasn't sure if she should feel insulted that he didn't trust her not to do something risky again, or flattered that he was still so worried about her safety.

She settled at her desk and tried to focus on overdue paperwork for a while, though it was hard to focus under the circumstances.

"Agent Prentiss?"

Emily looked up to see whoever had called her name and did a double take when she recognized Hotch's former sister-in-law standing a few feet away from her desk, with Jack standing quietly next to her, holding her hand.

Emily smiled at them both, but she wasn't sure if she should be worried, so she gave Jack a quick look over. He looked fine, albeit a little intimidated by his surroundings, the bright neon lights and busy agents. His aunt didn't look very comfortable either.

"Hi! Jessica, right?" Emily said as she approached them and extended her hand. "Nice to see you again." She bent over to look Jack in the eye. "And how are you doing, sir?"

Hotch's son chuckled at her formality, but he kept silent, another sign that he was intimidated. She ruffled his hair and stood straight again. "What can I do for you, Jessica?"

"I'm looking for Aaron? He called me a few hours ago saying I should bring Jack here. I need to be somewhere for the next couple of hours, and Aaron said he might be at the office for a while yet."

"He did? I'm afraid he's not here, he- something came up, but ah… hey, why don't you leave Jack here with me? I'll watch over him until Hotch gets back."

Jessica looked surprised at that. "Really? It would only be for a couple of hours but… are you sure? You must have tons of other things to do, I could probably just call him-"

Emily shook her head. "It's no problem, really! To be honest I could use something useful to do. Here, Jack, why don't you go sneak up on Derek and make him jump?" she whispered conspiratorially and laughed as Jack ran to Morgan's desk and yelled 'boo' once he was next to him, startling him.

When Emily returned her gaze to Jessica, the young woman was looking at her with an inquisitive expression. "How are you holding up, Agent Prentiss?"

Emily must have looked as confused as she felt, because Jessica quickly added: "Sorry, I don't mean to pry, Aaron's been keeping me updated on your situation. Sort of."

"Oh. He has?"

She shrugged. "Only because I keep bugging him about it. But he never really reveals much," she added quickly before tilting her head slightly to the side. "Don't be mad at him for telling me. I think he just needs someone to talk to, you know? He really cares about you."

Suddenly unsure what to say, Emily just shook her head as she let out a nervous chuckle. But sensing her embarrassment, Jessica saved her the trouble. "Sorry Agent Prentiss, I didn't mean to meddle, it's just… Ever since my sister… I mean Aaron's been talking about you a lot lately, and well… I'm just glad he's moving on. He's been really hard on himself since she died."

Emily frowned, perplex. Hotch talked about her to his former sister-in-law? She couldn't help but wonder what 'a lot' meant for Hotch, and why he would-

"Oh don't take me wrong," Jessica added quickly at her expression, "he's always talked about you in the most professional way, but ever since that day when he got that picture- I mean he never told me what was on it, but I wasn't born yesterday, you know? It's like something suddenly shifted in him, like he found his purpose again. So I figured it must have been something terrifying, to wake up that part of him again."

Emily's eyes widened at the mention of that damn picture, but then something clicked in her mind. Yes, Jessica was right, that was exactly the moment when his behavior had started to change towards her. Could the picture have been the catalyst for his feelings? Had it made him realize he felt something for her, even if it was just physical attraction?

"I'm sorry, I can see I've made you uncomfortable, I always talk too much-"

Emily shook her head, still slightly dazed by her realization. "No, no it's fine, Jessica. He's always been very protective of his team, and he's been a great support," she said carefully, hoping not to betray anything of her turmoil.

Jessica smiled before suddenly checking her watch. "Oh, I have to go! You sure about Jack?"

"Absolutely."

"Fantastic, thank you! I'll be back in a couple of hours to pick him up. It was good to see you again, Agent Prentiss. Take care of yourself!" She went to kiss Jack goodbye, then walked away.

With a perplex frown still firmly in place, Emily waved her goodbye, then walked to Morgan's desk, where he was distracting Jack.

"You okay?" Morgan asked as he saw her dumbfounded expression.

"What? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Guess I'm just tired. Hey Jack, I have a great idea. Do you know how to make paper planes?"

* * *

End part 5


	7. Part 6

I'm sure you're all just _dying_ to read this, but I have a couple of things I'd like to point out at this point!

First, I think you'll find that the more the story evolves the more we're pulling away from canon, so I'm kind of entering uncharted territory here, but I hope you'll still find the next few chapters believable in terms of characterization.

Second, I thought I would throw it out there that I actually know very little about the internal structure of the FBI and its regulations. My sole source of knowledge about this is Hollywood, so obviously not very reliable ;-) But I hope you'll allow me a little leeway about that!

Lastly, we're kinda getting to the crux of the matter here, but for some reason the final scene of this part was really difficult to write for me. This is the part that had me stuck for months. When I first started thinking about this story, that scene was supposed to be all action, torture and emotional disclosures, but I think I kinda crept myself out, so in the end I just had to go with a different, more psychological, scenario. You're probably all curious now, so I'll shut up and let you read, but I had to share :-)

Content warning: some swearing and coarse language, some violence.

**Part 6**

"Some things are better left unspoken  
better left unsaid  
some chains are better left unbroken  
just to keep the thread  
some feelings better left unopened  
to keep a sane head  
some stories better left unwritten"

- Unspoken by Neema

* * *

"Don't worry, we're going to keep a watchful eye out."

Hotch sighed into the cell phone as he flashed his ID to the security guard. "I know you will, Dave, keep me posted on any suspect activity."

He could almost picture Dave's expression of paternal concern as the older man replied. "Of course, Hotch. Now, go take care of your son."

"Alright, thanks."

Hotch flipped his phone shut just as he entered the BAU bullpen. Seeing that Prentiss's desk was deserted, he walked over to Morgan's. The younger man had contacted him an hour ago saying that Jessica had left Jack with Prentiss, and while Hotch had been reluctant to leave the perimeter of the cemetery, Jack still had to be his priority. He had vowed to himself and to Haley that he always would be. Plus he felt slightly angry that Jess had left Jack with Prentiss. Not that he didn't trust her to take good care of him, of course he did, she was fantastic with children, but Jack shouldn't be her responsibility. Especially in light of what had happened two nights before. The incident that he'd done his outmost not to think about, but failed miserably. It was always at the back of his mind… what if? What if he _had_ kissed her? But just when his imagination about her response was about to slip from his control, the image of her wide, shocked eyes brought him back to reality. She had stopped him. That was clear enough, and he had to just let it go. But how could he, when this whole situation with her stalker kept bringing her back either physically into his company, or mentally into his every thought?

From her reaction afterwards, she seemed to want to ignore it, but Hotch couldn't do that. The dread he was feeling every time he saw her now was already affecting their working relationship. He had to discuss it with her and put a stop to this. Hopefully their plan would work, and this would be over soon. Maybe then he would be able to return to his clear-minded self and forget about the whole thing. God let this work…

As he approached Morgan's desk in a deliberate stride, the younger man turned to him with an inquisitive expression. "Hotch, what are you doing here? Everything okay?"

Hotch frowned in confusion. "I came for Jack. You said Jess left him here?" he said as he looked around at the bullpen, but finding no trace of his son, or of Prentiss, for that matter.

"She did, but she said she'd come back to pick him up in a couple of hours. You didn't have to come back," Morgan replied.

Hotch shrugged slightly, still trying to get a glimpse of Prentiss and Jack as he scanned the room and beyond the doors. "Well, I'm here now, so…"

Morgan nodded. "How did it go?"

"We set up the perimeter, no sign of him yet. Where's Jack now?"

"In the conference room with Prentiss."

He nodded his thanks and walked across the bullpen. As he climbed the stairs, he became more and more curious about the fact that there was no sound coming from the conference room, so he stopped at the doorway to peek inside. Maybe they had gone somewhere else? But then his eyes fell on the couch along the wall, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight. Jack was sitting quietly at one end, a squadron of paper planes scattered around him, while he played with two of the bigger models. What had really stopped him, though, was the sight of Prentiss, fast asleep at the other hand of the couch, one of her hands still holding a half-folded piece of paper. Smiling despite the sudden painful tug in his chest, he entered quietly, careful not to wake her up. She needed whatever rest she could get.

"Jack!" he whispered as he walked over and kissed his hair. "What are you doing?" he asked as he crouched in front of him and grabbed one of the planes to get a better look at Prentiss's handiwork. She was pretty good at it, he had to admit.

"Look daddy, look at all the planes!" his excited voice rose Prentiss and he saw her slowly open her eyes, then bolt up straight when she realized he was there.

"Hotch! You're back!" she said, sounding a little disoriented, and maybe even a little embarrassed that he'd found her asleep. For his part, the first thing that came to mind was that her flushed cheeks made her look even more enticing. Would the skin of her neck feel as warm under his fingertips as he imagined it would? He shook the thought away resolutely. "What time is it?" she asked, even as she looked down at her watch.

"Just past 9pm. We don't have a visual yet, but Morgan called and said Jess had dropped Jack here, so I left Dave in charge of the operation."

"Oh. Yes, though she said she'd be back to pick him up. She should be here soon…" She mumbled, still sounding a little disoriented. She turned to Jack, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Jack, I guess I must have dozed off! God, I can't believe I fell asleep," she added, obviously more to herself. "Have you been enjoying the planes?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "But I tried to make them, but I couldn't."

"Here, let me show you how-"

"Not now, Jack," Hotch gently interrupted. "Agent Prentiss needs some rest, and you, buddy, need to get ready to go back home."

Jack complained for a few seconds, until Hotch sent him a stern look. "That's not negotiable, Jack. Why don't you gather your planes so you can take them home when Jess comes back?" Pacified, Jack jumped off the couch and started gathering the planes around him. Hotch took the opportunity to steal a glance in Prentiss's direction, noticing from the corner of his eye how she was trying to straighten her clothes and hair, all the while a slight blush covering her cheeks and neck. Damn it, why did he have to be so aware of her presence? All of a sudden he was annoyed for letting himself feel the way he felt. He had to get a goddamn grip!

After a second, she seemed to have composed herself enough to stand and look at him. "So, how did the stake out go?" she asked.

"For now we're on standby. The perimeter is established and covers as much ground as possible, but it is a big cemetery. I'm afraid he's going to find somewhere to hide where we have little chance of catching him beforehand."

Prentiss nodded bravely, but he didn't miss how she swallowed, hard. "So, what do we do if this doesn't work and we don't get him before the funeral?"

Hotch met her eyes. He was really hoping it wouldn't come to that, because then he would have to order her not to go. And she probably wouldn't accept that very easily. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," he replied carefully.

She held his gaze for a second, making him more aware than ever that she, too, was a profiler. "You're not going to let me go, are you?"

Hotch shifted on his feet uncomfortably and let out an annoyed sigh. Damn her for knowing where to push to touch a nerve. "I'm not going to physically restrain you, if that's what you're asking. And I don't see how I could keep you from going otherwise."

She frowned slightly. "What does that mean?"

He let out another frustrated sigh as he turned to Jack and helped him pick up the few remaining planes and put them into his little backpack. He wasn't trying to be contentious, but he couldn't keep his weariness and annoyance – albeit misdirected - from hardening his tone. "It means that I _could_ order you not to go, but I'm not sure that it would be enough to keep you from going. So ultimately it's up to you, Prentiss."

For a few seconds she stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes that made him look away. "Where is this coming from? When have I ever disregarded a direct order?"

"I remember a case or two that got a little too personal."

She shook her head, her expression turning from incredulous to annoyed. "That was years ago, Hotch. You're the one who keeps saying that what happens to one of us happens to the rest of us – well, I've learned my lesson! Even more so over the last few days. How dare you think I would do anything that would put anyone else at risk? If you ordered me right now to just stay put, I wo-"

Hotch looked up when she stopped mid-sentence, as if she hadn't been quite aware of what she was about to say. "You what? Would comply? Would you, really?" he asked a little more calmly, and that seemed to throw her off a little.

"Well, I…" She stopped herself again and held his gaze, only for a moment, before she sighed and put a hand to her forehead in a gesture he recognized as weariness. "Truth is I don't know," she replied, sounding a little deflated. "You know how important this is to me, Hotch." She met his gaze again. "How would _you_ react, if you were in my place?"

That was a fair question, one he had asked himself a few times before, and he knew the answer, but for some reason wasn't ready to acknowledge it yet. Not if it meant loosing this battle against keeping her safe. "I don't know," he said at last, not meeting her eye and focusing on Jack instead. The poor boy was looking between the two of them with wide, worried eyes, and until then Hotch had not really considered how this could look to a five year old. "Jack, buddy, why don't you show Agent Morgan your planes? I'll come and join you in a few minutes."

Jack nodded and left the room with one last glance towards Prentiss, who smiled weakly in response. Once he was gone, her expression returned to one of complete seriousness, and Hotch thought he could even detect a little anguish in her eyes.

"I don't believe you." She resumed their conversation. "I know you, Hotch. If our situations were reversed, you would do as you damn well please, you wouldn't let a direct order stop you from doing something you think is right."

She was right, of course, and although the boss in him almost retorted that she was way out of line, for some reason that line he had tried so hard to maintain over the last month had been blurred beyond recognition in a matter of a few days. And he couldn't bring himself to reprimand her for insubordination when he knew that, while they were talking about chains of command, the conversation wasn't really about that. It was about trust, and about their relationship, and how the whole Norland case was affecting the both of them. At that moment, they were equals, if not in position, then definitely in their right to express what they were really feeling. He didn't want to hide behind his position anymore. Not where she was concerned. And he still meant what he had told her a few days before, about respecting her decision. Ultimately, as much as it cost him to stand aside, this was her life, and he had no right to tell her how she should live it.

He sighed, then took off his baseball cap to rake his fingers through his hair before putting it back on. "You're right." He admitted. "I probably wouldn't listen to anyone who would try to stop me from doing something that I knew to be right. And you're right, Agent Mansfield deserves us to be there when he's put to rest. All of us," he insisted, and he could see a little twinkle of hope return to her eyes.

"What are you saying?" she asked, eyes widening, and he could tell she was trying to contain her growing excitement. She was way too happy that he'd admitted he was wrong, was he really that stubborn that he didn't know when to own his mistakes? He shook his head in bemusement as he took in a deep breath.

"As soon as Jess comes back to pick Jack up, we'll return to the cemetery. To the surveillance van," he added quickly as he saw her expression turning even more excited.

"Sounds good to me," she said with a nod, failing to conceal her sudden surge of energy, despite her best attempt.

He couldn't help but smile a little, the bittersweet tug in his chest returning as he threw her a sidelong glance. "I should get back to Jack," he said as he turned to walk back to the bullpen. "Maybe Morgan showed him how to actually make the planes."

She sighed dramatically. "I hope not. They'd end up looking like sailboats," she said as she whisked past him, leaving him with a small smile and feeling just a little more confident that they would make it through this. Maybe. Whatever _this _was.

* * *

As promised, Jess returned around 9:30 to pick up Jack, so Hotch took the opportunity to make arrangements with her for the next 48 hours. After all, he had no idea how this whole thing with Norland would unfold, and he wanted to make sure that he wouldn't have to worry about Jack when his attention should be entirely focused on the case at hand. Though he still wanted to discuss her dropping Jack at the BAU without telling him first, he decided that it could wait. Besides, it was of no fault of hers, he had told her he would be there. For the moment he had to focus.

Morgan and Prentiss seemed more than happy to join the operation once more, so after grabbing a quick bite to eat, fill up on coffee, and getting them to put on some basic disguises, they made their way to the cemetery to meet up with the surveillance team. They met up with Reid and Agent Sheppard in the van, and after a quick update on the operation, Hotch contacted Dave through the radio.

"Rossi, anything?"

"Negative," Dave replied after a second. "We're all holding our position for now, but no visual on the suspect yet."

"Very well. What about you, Garcia, how are you doing?"

As planned, Garcia's post was at the BAU with JJ, since she had access to a number of surveillance cameras throughout the neighborhood from her own station, which was much more than they could access on the ground.

"Good, sir, though nothing overly suspicious on our end either," she replied.

"Alright. This will be a long night people," Hotch said into the radio, "let's make sure we stay focused. We will rotate our positions every couple of hours to assure that at least we all get a few hours of rest. Always work in pairs, and if you see anything, and I mean _anything_, report and we will investigate as the situation warrants. Any questions?" He waited for a few seconds, then went on. "Alright then, our next rotation will be in 120 minutes."

The next couple of hours were spent mostly observing playback from various surveillance cameras, with some interruptions here and then by light conversation and lighthearted joking. Hotch tried to stay out of it, though he understood how necessary it was for everybody present to keep the morale up, as well as do anything to stay awake. Hotch eventually tuned their voices out and focused entirely on the job and the small monitors in front of him.

The cemetery was closed at night, and though someone could probably step over the 7 feet high fence if they really wanted to, their perimeter had every side of it covered, if not by a camera, then by their own people. There seemed to always be a few people wandering or walking their dog along the fence, and maybe a homeless person here and there, but Hotch always had them either followed or looked at closer to make sure their business there was coincidental. So far, no sign of the UnSub. Of course, it was early still, and while this was still their best chance at catching the man, Hotch couldn't help the doubt that crept into his mind. What if his profile was wrong and he didn't show up? What if Agent Mansfield's death was unrelated to the UnSub's game? The evidence pointing to his murder at the hand of the same UnSub was only circumstantial, after all. Or what if it _was_ related, but he was smart enough to predict what they would do and not show up?

Stealing a glance in Prentiss's direction, he couldn't help but notice how exhausted she still looked despite her earlier burst of energy, and he knew that she wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. And to be honest, neither could he. As if sensing his eyes on her, she unexpectedly met his eyes across the small room and slowly took a sip of her coffee, as if quietly pondering why he was looking at her, then looked away and returned to her quiet conversation with Morgan. Hotch almost believed her act, but the behaviorist in him couldn't help but detect a certain degree of self-consciousness in the way she now held herself and resolutely looked at the screens. Was she affected as well, then? He couldn't tell if this was only wishful thinking, but he seemed to remember from their… incident… that at some point she had seemed to welcome him, but since then she had acted as if nothing happened. Resolutely ignoring it. Truth be told, he couldn't blame her. What would she risk by even merely considering the idea? And as far as he could tell, she was still dating someone else. So then, why did she look so affected now? She was a puzzle to him like no woman had ever been before, and that, he realized, was probably at the heart of the matter.

"…rotation, Hotch?"

Hotch was pulled from his thoughts by Morgan's voice. "I'm sorry?"

"I was just saying, I think it's time for our rotation. Where do you want us?"

Hotch looked at his watch, and sure enough, the 120 minutes were up. He had been so absorbed in the monitors and his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed any time pass. "Right. Morgan, Reid, Agent Sheppard, you relieve Agents Rossi and Timmins from the North entrance bench," he picked up the radio and looked down at the map, then dispatched the rest of the agents across their various strategic locations. "Rossi, Timmins, how about you get some more coffee on your way back? I think we could all use it."

"Sure thing, sir," Timmins's cheeky voice replied. "We have pencil and piece of paper in hand, folks, and we await your orders," she said with a flourish.

Reid looked pleased at the prospect and was about to give his preference when Hotch stopped him before a sound left his lips. "She was joking, Reid," he said with a small smile.

"Oh. Right. Maybe next time."

Hotch exchanged an amused look with Morgan, and then Prentiss, then returned his gaze to the map. "Be careful guys," he said as Morgan, Sheppard and Reid rose to their feet and, with one last nod, exited the van. It's only then that Hotch realized that his choice of pairs had left him alone with Prentiss. He threw her a look, but she was closely looking at the screens once more, frowning in concentration.

"Anything?" he asked as he sat back down in his seat, a couple of empty chairs between them.

She shook her head. "No. I hope we're right about this."

Hotch threw her another look at the sound of his own doubts being spoken aloud and sighed. "Me too."

They stayed silent for a few minutes, it seemed making the tension between them increase tenfold as each second turned into the next. After what felt like eternity, he rested his gaze on her profile again, this time steadily, until she would be unable to resist looking in his direction. Sure enough, she held on for a few seconds, until she slowly turned her head towards him.

"We're going to have to talk about it at some point," he said softly.

One of her shoulders rose in a half-shrug and her eyes darted down briefly. "Don't you think some things are better left unsaid?"

Hotch held her gaze for a second. Was that really what she wanted? To just ignore it? He would respect her wishes if that were truly what she wanted, but for some reason he couldn't quite believe it. For one, he believed in honesty at all cost, and he'd always thought that nothing could be gained from ignoring an awkward situation. It would only make it worse. He opened his mouth to disagree but just at that moment, a knock on the door startled them both back into the present.

"Hot coffee, thank God," she said lightly as Hotch rose to his feet to open the door to Rossi and Timmins. Only it _wasn't_ Rossi and Timmins, and the surprise made him hesitate for a second, but it was a second too late as the hooded figure that stood outside swiftly jumped in, swinging something at his head before he could reach his gun. He saw a flash of cold blue eyes – Norland – before the object struck his temple with such force that a flash of white blurred his vision.

And then everything went black.

* * *

When Hotch came to, the first thing to came to mind was that he felt like crap. Blood was pounding painfully against his skull, the left side of his face hurt like hell, and the lingering dizziness made him nauseous. There was something warm and sticky sliding down his face. Blood. What the hell happened? The last thing he remembered was…

Oh God! No, no, no! Where was she? If the son of a bitch had so much as touched the hair on her head, nothing would stop Hotch from blowing his brains to pieces! There was no controlling the overwhelming panic of going through this _again_, but his training had taught him that acting recklessly could cost both their lives, so he willed himself to push aside the rage and fear, and resolutely kept his eyes shut, instead focusing on his other senses. He tried to move slowly to assess the situation, but he soon found that his hands were tied behind his back, and his legs were tied to the legs of the chair he was sitting on. Even though his eyes were closed, he could tell from the stagnant air and sounds that he was indoors and that it was dark, but couldn't be sure what kind of room without risking opening his eyes. It was cool, damp and smelled of diesel. A garage of some sort? Fighting the dizziness that blurred his thoughts, he tried to focus on his surroundings, straining his ears and trying to hear anything that would give him a sign that Prentiss was there with him, alive and well.

At first he couldn't hear anything, but as he got used to the silence around him, he finally detected something. His heart swelled with relief when he realized it was her soft breathing, not too far in front of him. Not hearing or sensing any sign of a third presence, he finally opened his eyes slowly.

His previous assessment had been correct, they were in fact in some kind of garage, or even an old basement, it was dark, but there must be at least one window because light from street lamps illuminated Prentiss's silhouette a few feet in front of him. He couldn't see her face very well, but she was sitting in the same position he was, eerily still with her head bent forward. Unconscious. But from what he could tell she looked otherwise uninjured.

Cursing under his breath at seeing her unconscious, Hotch tried to think back to Norland's file and the profile they had built around his most recent behavior. They had thought he was including the whole team into his delusions, but now it appeared that his scenario only included the two of them. Why? He understood how he would make Prentiss the victim of his sick game, but why Hotch and none of the others? Hotch had known all along that the UnSub was trying to get under his skin, but why? And why involve the others with the pictures, but not when it mattered? It was true that when they had first investigated him, Hotch had often partnered with Prentiss during interviews. Was he blaming him too? Could it be as simple as that?

Feeling a little bolder now, Hotch looked around more carefully. There were a number of objects just lying around that he could eventually use as a weapon, various car parts, tools, pipes, but none were within his reach. A reflection in front of the only door caught his eye, and he realized with a sinking feeling that there was a camera on a tripod pointed in their direction. He couldn't tell if it was video or photo though. Photos were something new that the UnSub had developed only since he started stalking Prentiss, or at least they hadn't noticed them to be a part of his profile before. Why? Why use them so much now? Some outside influence, maybe? Hotch was dreading where this was going, but he had to consider the possibility of a second UnSub, a stalker in the truest sense who preferred to stay in the shadows, who would rather shoot a gun from a safe distance than seek out the challenge of close combat. Someone who would have taken the pictures, followed her every move, and shot Agent Mansfield. A docile accomplice would make more sense than Norland changing so much of his MO. Why hadn't they considered it before?

While this made more sense, it also made the business of getting out of there a little bit more complicated.

He heard more than saw Prentiss start to come to, but he feared that the UnSubs were looking at them through the camera feed and waiting for both of them to be conscious to come in and act on their compulsions. "Prentiss," he said very quietly, keeping his head down so the camera wouldn't catch the movement of his lips, hoping that sound capture would be bad enough not to catch what he was saying. "If you can hear me, don't move, don't look up. We need to buy some time."

It took a second, but then: "Hotch," she whispered, following his lead, making him sigh in relief. "Are you okay?"

Her concern took him aback for a second. He had expected a 'what's going on' or maybe an acknowledgement of his order. "I'm fine. You?" he returned the question, dreading the answer. God, if he had touched her…

"I'm fine. He just knocked me over. Hotch, I think he's injured. I think I shot him."

Oh that was good news. He loved every single word in that sentence. Except... "You _think_?" he asked, still keeping his voice and head down.

"It happened so fast, but I think… I pulled the trigger just before he made contact. I couldn't have missed him."

"Then the others probably heard the shot. This could buy us some time."

Hotch told her of his conclusions about an accomplice and Emily, being even more familiar with Norland's file than he was, agreed, though not before kicking herself for not seeing it. They surmised that Norland and the potential second UnSub had known somehow they had set up surveillance at the cemetery, and had waited until the perfect opportunity for Hotch and Emily to be left alone together. Plus they had been looking for a single man, not two people. The change in position of the surveillance team had allowed them to get close without anyone noticing anything. It was eerily brilliant.

Their hushed conversation continued for a while, though neither of them could actually tell how much time had passed since Norland had knocked on the van's back door ("The nerve!" Emily had ranted). It couldn't be that long, the others would have reacted quickly and while neither of them had their phone, the others might have been fast enough to see something and follow them. All they had to do was buy some time.

The sound of footsteps interrupted their attempts at loosening their ties, and both sat still as Norland slowly walked in, alone. He looked scruffier than Hotch remembered, with unkempt hair and beard and clothes that hung too loose on his frame. Hotch immediately noticed a slight limp and how he seemed to favor his left side. Prentiss _had_ shot him. He also immediately noticed the army knife he held so tight his knuckles were white. Either he was really angry, or in a lot of pain. Either way, this would be to their advantage. Norland's strength had always been his patience and methodical intelligence. He never acted recklessly until the very last moment before his final attack, but anger and pain might lead him to make a mistake. Hotch briefly exchanged a look with Prentiss, who sat completely still but for the movement of her eyes. He was impressed at how calm she looked as she stared steadily at Norland.

But then again, this was the moment she had been waiting for. For weeks now, she had wished that Norland would just suck it up and _do _something, and this was her chance to get this over with and take control of her life again. He could tell she wasn't afraid of him, and in way she seemed to be almost looking forward to this confrontation. Hotch had never admired her so much as he did at that moment.

Norland observed her silently for a few seconds, paying Hotch no mind, until a twisted smile appeared on his face. "Well, pretty Emily. Long time no see. Missed me?" he asked, his smile turning into a smirk.

"Oh Steven, every second of every day," she replied in the same sarcastic tone, without missing a beat.

He chuckled, stepping closer and slightly touching a lock of hair that escaped her ponytail with the tip of his finger. "Me too, Emily," he sighed. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since we last met," he said, his smooth tone dripping with dangerous undertones.

Hotch had to force himself to stay still and not react to the taunt, but Emily's composure helped him focus on his own. She was playing a dangerous game, though, and he only went with it because he knew she was purposefully keeping Norland's attention away from himself. He took the opportunity to start working on loosening the ties around his legs again, wriggling without trying to move too much.

She smiled with a coy shrug of the shoulders. "I have that effect on men, sometimes."

"I'm sure you do," Norland replied as he stepped even closer and slowly caressed the side of her face with the knife. She didn't budge, but Hotch felt his blood turn cold at the gesture.

"Does she have that effect on you too, Agent Hotchner?" Norland asked as he unexpectedly whirled around in his direction, though the knife was still pointed at Prentiss's face. He had lost his smirk and seductive tone, and there was only coldness and anger in his expression now.

"What do you think?" Hotch replied forcefully, allowing himself to play the game. "Of course she does. Look at her! It's the reason you sent me that picture, isn't it? So she would drive me crazy, just like she does you? Well done, Steven, she's been torturing me for weeks."

Norland's smirk returned. "Sorry to hear that, man. Women, one never knows whether to kiss 'em or wring their little necks," he said, maybe with more feeling than he'd intended, because he looked away, his eyes resting on the knife in his hand. "It's funny you should talk about torture, though. 'Cause I don't think anyone can know what torture really is until they gone through what I've gone through."

"Now you're gonna make this about your _mom_, Steven?" Prentiss retorted cynically. "Really, you're gonna play that card? The poor little boy whose mommy never wanted?" She added provocatively, and Hotch was worried that she was pushing it too far, that is until he saw Norland's left hand ball into a fist. That was her goal, he realized, she was trying to make him act on his anger so she could use it against him.

"You know _nothing_ about me, Emily," he said, his tone still calm, though Hotch thought he could detect a little tremor in his voice.

She smiled sweetly, almost patronizingly. "You're wrong, Steven, I know _everything_ about you. I know the first thing you think about when you wake up is how to make women do whatever you want, but then you're reminded that no matter how much you want it, you just can't stick it up!"

For a second Hotch thought Norland would strike her, so he prepared himself to lunge at him if necessary, but Norland didn't react, only shifted on his feet, edgily. She was getting to him.

"You don't know what you're talking about, bitch!"

"Oh, I'm the bitch now? Just because I see through your little game and I stopped you from getting what you want-"

"You TOOK AWAY MY LIFE!" he yelled suddenly and before neither of them could react, Norland had dropped the knife and hit her jaw with all his might, sending her and the chair she was sitting on to the floor. She moaned in pain as she hit the hard concrete, but Hotch thought he had seen her briefly shake her head no, so he forced himself to stoically remain where he was.

Norland straightened up again, panting, and turned to Hotch. "And YOU," he started as he picked the knife and stepped closer. Hotch had very vivid memories of how it felt to be stabbed with a knife, and he didn't want to repeat the experience. He had to keep talking.

"Yes, Steven, what about me?" he said. "Maybe Prentiss thinks she knows all about you, but I know that's not possible. What you did tonight, Steven, that was brilliant profiling. No matter what she says," he jerked his chin his Prentiss's direction, "you fooled us all. How did you do it?"

That seemed to take him aback for a second, but then he seemed to relax his grip on the knife. "I knew what I'd done. I knew you'd want to be alone with her. All I had to do was wait."

"Your knowledge of human nature is very impressive, Norland. You knew my weakness before I even knew it myself."

"I'll admit, it was fun watching a _great_ man like you squirm like a worm in the sun. I have to say, I really loved looking at the two of you from afar. So close and yet so far," he smirked. "It's like you said, Agent. Torture." Hotch realized with a sinking feeling that the man was gaining some control over his emotions again, and that wasn't good. The good thing was that hitting Prentiss has seemed to awaken his pain again. His breathing was getting more labored and his movements appeared sloppier.

"In fact, why don't we make this a little more fun?" Norland asked, apparently to himself, as he walked back to Prentiss, and roughly pulled her chair back up, then took hold her hair to force her to look at him. The side of her face was already starting to bruise and swell from his blow, but she still wouldn't flinch and held his gaze stubbornly. Norland threw Hotch a triumphant look, before taking the knife close to Prentiss's chest, and in a swift move ripped the first two buttons of her blouse.

"Wait!" Hotch yelled before he could stop himself, but he couldn't let Norland win. He had to keep stalling! Desperately searching his head for another strategy, he met Prentiss's eyes for a second, then looked back up at Norland, who seemed taken aback, but pleased that he'd gotten a reaction from Hotch so fast.

"Let _me_ do it."

That he hadn't expected. "What?"

"You heard me. She's been tempting me for weeks, always in my fucking mind, always getting close and then pulling away. Teasing. Like I'm just a toy she can play with. She's been playing me as much as she's played you, Steven. You think you want me to suffer, but we both know who you're really trying to punish here."

Norland seemed to hesitate, so Hotch pushed it a little bit more.

"All I ask is a little taste. After that she's yours. You owe me that, at least."

Hotch was amazed that Norland would seriously consider it, after all anybody in their right minds could tell that Hotch was desperate. But a little flicker of hope burned his chest as he saw Norland looking between the two of them. Hotch pretended to throw her a lascivious look and he saw her expression change the moment she got into the act.

Her eyes filled with tears. "Hotch! I trusted you! Please don't," she pleaded softly, looking suddenly so afraid that Hotch's breath caught in his throat. Damn she was good. Her pleading seemed to do the trick, making Norland smirk slowly.

"Alright, it ain't how I usually do it, but this could be… entertaining," he said as he walked to Hotch and bent down, swiftly cutting through the rope around his ankle. This was it! Once freed, Hotch didn't waste any time. Jumping to his feet, he did a 180-degree rotation on himself, the element of surprise allowing him to both kick Norland into his right side and hitting him the legs of the chair at once.

Norland fell back against the back wall, with the force of both blows, his hands clutching to his side as if to stop blood from seeping from his wound. He looked up at Hotch in shock, but then his rage seemed to consume him and even make him forget about his pain as he jumped to his feet and lunged himself at him, knife ready to strike. Hotch didn't wait for him and met him halfway, running head first into his stomach, making them both fall to the floor. Not being able to protect himself with his hands, Hotch fell on his shoulder and gasped in pain as he felt his humerus dislocate from its socket. Standing up again as swiftly as he could muster while being tied to a chair and with a dislocated shoulder, he swirled around again and once more used the chair to hit Norland, this time in the face. The man stumbled back against the wall and slid to the ground, moaning in pain. He wouldn't stand up again. Not for a few seconds anyway.

Hotch barely had time to turn on his heels to make sure Prentiss was alright, when a screeching "Noooooooooooo" resonated throughout the building, and soon the door swung open, revealing another man, much smaller in build than Norland, his face sweaty and distorted with rage, holding a wavering gun at Hotch. "He promised you wouldn't take her away!" he yelled in despair. "He said she would be MINE!"

He was about to shoot, Hotch could see it in his eyes, but at that precise moment, a loud chorus of "FBI", "FREEZE!" "On the floor, hands on your head!" startled the man as the cacophony was meant to do, and soon enough, Morgan was barging into the room, pinning Norland down and roughly handcuffing him, while Agent Sheppard took care of intimidating the second man into submission.

Rossi quickly stepped in and helped Hotch with the remaining ties, while Reid took care of Prentiss.

"Good timing, guys," Prentiss said, panting, as she rose to her feet slowly, her fingers massaging her wrists then touching her face.

Hotch approached her slowly, observing her carefully to make sure she was alright. She would have a nasty bruise on her cheekbone, but otherwise she seemed okay. She met his concerned gaze with her own and, to his utmost surprise, slowly but steadily walked up to him and brought her arms up loosely around him, in an act of pure relief. Hotch stood still for a second, until his uninjured arm went around her shoulder and squeezed lightly, careful not to put too much pressure.

"Thank you," she whispered softly into his shoulder before pulling away.

Hotch stopped her with his hand on her shoulder to look into her eyes, gazing at her with renewed awe. "You never let him have the upper hand," he said.

She nodded quickly, apparently getting that he was clumsily trying to pay her a compliment. She didn't say anything more before quickly turning away and walking out, escorted by Rossi and Reid.

Clutching his arm, Hotch watched as Morgan and Sheppard roughly pushed the two accomplices forward and out of the room, catching Norland's look of hatred as he passed by him.

Never again, Hotch thought.

* * *

End part 6

Like I said before, this last scene didn't turn out exactly as I first imagined it would, but I hope it was still satisfying! Take _that_ Norland! :-)

It's funny, some of you figured out that Norland had a partner much earlier in the story than I did when I was writing it, which is why he only makes a short appearance here, and why the team didn't consider it before. It wasn't my intention to have Norland have a partner at first, but then it just struck me that it would make much more sense! Duh! So good profiling call to those who saw it coming! :-)

Next, the aftermath from Emily's point of view…


	8. Part 7

Sorry I haven't posted anything these last couple of days! Real life got in the way, plus I figured you had the real thing to keep you occupied :-) I really liked how Emily reacted at the beginning of that new episode, even though that scene was terrifying, I was holding my breath the whole time. Plus we had a nice tour of Emily's place.

Anyways, because you've been waiting for a while, I'll post two parts tonight to reward you for your patience, and hopefully the epilogue tomorrow. There's romance in the air... :-)

**Part 7**

Temptations come, as a general rule, when they are sought. - Margaret Oliphant

* * *

Emily felt like she was in a dream, events and images succeeding each other in a blur, without making much sense.

She knew this was just her body responding to a build-up of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline but she just couldn't snap out of it. Not when the medics were assessing her injuries, not when Agent Thams was trying to take her statement, nor when JJ then Garcia enveloped her in tight hugs.

She didn't talk to Hotch again after leaving the garage, but observing him from afar as he focused on his job, maneuvering amongst police car headlights and radio dispatches reassured her that he was okay. At one point she saw him talking to Morgan and Rossi, and though she was curious as to how the guys had found their location, she was still feeling too hazy to stick around for the debrief. So when JJ and Garcia showed up at the scene while Emily's cheek was getting bandaged and offered to take her home, Emily didn't refuse.

On the way to her place, Garcia chatted endlessly about how a surveillance camera from across the street (which she had hacked as a preventive measure) had caught their kidnapping live, as well as how Norland's accomplice had actually driven the van down a couple of blocks. From there, they seemed to have changed vehicle, so it had taken a little more time to get a license plate number, trace the owner, and investigate the owner's property. As it turned out, the vehicle had belonged to Norland's accomplice, a man named Fred Cooper who had a series of restraining orders on his RAP sheet. It was probable that Norland, in all his wisdom and profiling abilities, had not expected the team to find the vehicle so fast, or how it was connected to him. He failed to predict that Garcia would have her magical hacker's hands on every surveillance camera on the street.

While Garcia was always entertaining to listen to, Emily only half-listened. Her mind kept wandering back to that garage, memories coming and going in quick flashes. The mean twinkle in Norland's eyes as he looked down at her, the light from the street lamps reflecting on the knife, Hotch's look of panic when the blade ripped her blouse. Then her memory blurred and she was outside once more, she could breathe again. A penlight shining into her eyes as the medics checked her for concussions. Hotch's stoic figure illuminated by red and blue police car and ambulance lights, Rossi's reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Once safely settled in her apartment, Garcia and JJ left her alone only reluctantly at Emily's insistence. She reveled in the feeling of being home for a few minutes, wandering from one room to another. But it's only when she saw her bed that she realized just how exhausted she really was. She was asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow.

She didn't wake until 10am the next morning, when her mother called to check up on her after learning of what had happened. After a long conversation, she decided it was time to get ready. She felt much more clear-headed after a good night's sleep, and for the first time in a long time she felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

She felt alive, like she hadn't had in months. It was exhilarating.

She took a long, hot shower, then took particular care in getting dressed, feeling like she owed Tom Mansfield a certain amount of solemnity on this day. About an hour before the funeral, she got a call from Dave, offering her a ride, and Emily was grateful. She didn't quite trust her driving at the moment.

So it was that an hour later she found herself standing in the cemetery under the afternoon sun, surrounded by her team and Agent Mansfield's family and colleagues. It was a beautiful summer day, full of those simple pleasures that only a somber event such as this could highlight. Emily took advantage of her sunglasses to close her eyes as Father MacKay spoke the words that would put Mansfield to eternal rest, and be comforted by her surroundings. The feel of the breeze against her skin and into her hair, the warmth of the sun against her face, the smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of birds chirping in nearby trees. It was like magic.

Agent Mansfield had died protecting her, but Emily hoped that, wherever he now was, he could see that she had made it, and that his death had not been in vain. In her mind, he was a hero, and today the universe seemed to be saluting him with joyful bird songs, warm sunrays and the gathering of people he cared about. The best homage one could hope for.

After the ceremony, Emily paid her respect to his wife and two young daughters, then spent some time in conversation with his partner, Agent Sheppard, as they reminisced about some of the funny stories that had happened while the two men had been in charge of her protection. It was bittersweet to remember those moments, but Emily was happy to offer at least a little degree of comfort to this man who had lost a partner and a friend. It gave her a purpose.

On the drive to the wake, Dave kept to himself and Emily was grateful. She just felt like she needed some time to comprehend it all. It felt like so much had happened, so fast, that she didn't have time to adjust. Once in Mansfield's home, Emily stayed close to JJ and Reid as she didn't particularly feel like mingling, but she could see Hotch, arm in a sling, walking around to offer his sympathies. She'd only had a chance to exchange a little small talk with him before the funeral, but as time went by the need to talk to him became stronger and stronger. She didn't know what to say exactly, but her instinct told her that going over what had happened with him would help her put the pieces of her fragmented memory together and eventually help her move on.

After a while he finally joined them in the living room area, holding a plate in his good hand – though with very little food on it, looking grave and tired. The small bandage on the side of his forehead did nothing to hide the nasty bruise underneath and only highlighted the paleness of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes. But Emily knew that, despite her make up, she didn't fare any better. "I just got a call," he said after greeting them. "Fred Cooper, Norland's associate, has confessed to taking the photographs and shooting Agent Mansfield, but asked for life in prison in exchange for cooperating in prosecuting Norland. The DA's accepted the deal."

"The little weasel didn't resist long before confessing, I'm sorry I missed it," Morgan said. "What about Norland?"

Hotch threw a quick look in Emily's direction, before returning his attention to Morgan. "He's not talking. He lawyered up, but we have enough on him to pin him for voluntary manslaughter and rape on four of his victims. Notwithstanding kidnapping and conspiracy to murder federal agents."

There was a second or two of silence as they all took this in, and then:

"Good."

They all turned to Garcia in surprise. They all knew that the charges against Norland would send him to Death Row, so Emily and, it seemed the rest of the team, were surprised at Garcia's quiet condoning of the fact. Though she probably was saying out loud what the rest of them had thought in silence.

"Well for one I'm just glad it's over," Dave said in a lighter tone, sending a small fatherly smile in Emily's direction.

She nodded in reply, picking at the food on her plate aimlessly. So was she, but the exaltation of the morning had somehow dissipated as the afternoon went on, leaving behind only a sense of grief and confusion. How could she be so happy and so sad at the same time?

"Prentiss," Hotch said softly, pulling her out of her thoughts. "A word?"

Feeling her teammates' eyes follow her as she walked past them, she quietly followed Hotch through the house and out into the backyard where fewer people were present. He stopped next to the swing set and put his good hand into his pocket, squinting against the bright sun. "I just wanted to say. I'm sorry for your loss," he said gravely.

Emily looked up at him in surprise. Yes, she _was_ grieving, and somehow he had recognized it even before she could. That was why she needed to talk to him, she decided. He _understood._

She nodded in acknowledgement.

He gazed down at her in silence for a moment, pursing his lips, as if debating with himself whether he should say something or not. "I spoke to Chief Strauss," he started at last. "She wants us both to talk to the Bureau therapist. As a preventive measure for PTSD. It's standard procedure."

Emily nodded again. "Oh, okay."

"He should contact you over the next few days. And I've been thinking," he started again as he briefly looked down at his feet, showing a sudden vulnerability that made butterflies make happy somersaults around her stomach. "You have some leave coming up, you should take a couple of weeks off."

Fighting her slight disappointment, she sighed. "Are you ordering me to stay away?"

He seemed a little taken aback by the defensiveness in her voice, and shook his head. "No, but I'll be taking some time off myself and I'm merely suggesting you do the same. Allow things to go back to normal, take some time to get reacquainted with the feeling of _not_ being haunted. It takes a while."

Emily was suddenly reminded that he knew this from experience, so she nodded meekly. "Okay. I will."

"And I think," he went on, the vulnerability reappearing in his eyes, "eventually, we'll need to talk as well. The other night, at the safe house… And some of the things I said last night-"

Emily shook her head, interrupting him. "Hotch, it's okay, we were both trying to find a way to negotiate our way out last night, I-"

"No," he interrupted her firmly. His eyes darted down for a millisecond before he looked back straight into her eyes. "Some of it was true. Not all of it was an act."

Although Emily was starting to come to grips with the fact that Hotch was attracted to her and was apparently willing not to ignore it, she couldn't be more surprised by this admission than if he'd screamed it from the rooftops. Suddenly reminded of where they were, Emily shook herself out of her surprise and quickly looked around them, but sighed in relief when no one seemed to pay them any attention.

"I don't think this is the time, nor the place," she said, looking back at him. His gaze was serious but undecipherable, and that made her nervous. Giddy, almost.

His eyes held hers for a few more seconds, before he tilted his head to the side slightly. A closing-off gesture, as sure as if he'd taken a step back. "Yes, you're right. We should probably take our leave anyway."

Emily nodded, letting out a small sigh as she turned on her heels, but just when she thought she was out of the woods, his fingers closed around her wrist in a loose but firm grip, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her eyes met his in surprise at the burning sensation along her arm, and he slowly, reluctantly it seemed, released her arm. "But will you…" he stopped himself and shifted on his feet. "I need to tell you the truth. Would you be willing to hear me out?"

Emily held her breath as she realized that, in the same way she instinctively needed to relive last night's events with him, he was also feeling that need to free his mind and unload this weight off his shoulder. Maybe even off his heart. As scary as that thought was, she couldn't deny him that chance, so she nodded slowly. "Yes. Of course."

He took a deep breath and seemed to stand taller. "Thank you."

"I should probably go," she said awkwardly as she pointed to the house over her shoulder.

"Yes," he replied quickly. "Me too."

"I'll talk to you later, then?" she said as she took a step away.

He nodded. "Take care of yourself, Emily."

She nodded one last time before making her way back into the house to find Dave so he could drive her home.

Over the next few of days, Emily started putting her life back together. She scheduled an appointment with the Bureau therapist, went grocery shopping, did some laundry and cleaned her apartment from top to bottom. Anything to keep her busy or from dwelling on her feelings. She just wasn't ready to face anything yet. She went to dinner with her mother twice and then JJ and Will invited her over to spend some time with Henry. JJ updated her on BAU news, but everything had been pretty slow since she had started her leave. Hotch had come in to work only once, JJ told her, and just to make sure that they had everything under control. That was all Emily heard about him for a few days, and she quickly pushed aside any thought of him as she returned to occupying herself with various chores.

The memories of that night were getting more and more blurry in her mind and it unnerved her that she couldn't quite remember how everything had happened, the sequence of it all. Her need to talk about it seemed to increase, and she felt it especially acutely when she woke up after a nightmare. They didn't happen very often, but just enough times to keep her from really making up for her sleep deprivation of the last few weeks. Plus, she was so used to looking over her shoulder, that it was hard to get rid of the habit or the paranoia that had seemed to permanently knot her stomach. Hotch had warned her that it would take time, but she hadn't believed him until now.

After a while she summoned the courage to call Matt and make sure he was alright. They talked a little about what had happened, but Emily didn't fail to notice that they were both acting distant, even on the phone. This didn't bode well, but she didn't push it and decided to let it go for now.

One afternoon, as she was jogging in the park and least expecting it, Hotch called.

She stopped and stared at her phone for a couple of seconds, wondering why a tingle ran up her spine when she saw his name on the tiny screen. She tried to get her panting under control before flipping the phone open. "Prentiss."

"Prentiss, sorry to bother you… Everything okay?" he asked after hearing her heavy breathing.

She scrunched up her face in embarrassment. "Yeah, I was just working out. What's up?" She asked lightly. Too lightly. Who was she trying to fool? It suddenly dawned on her that, despite her attempts at pushing aside any thought of him, she had been longing for him to call for days.

There was a second of silence, and then: "Are you ready to talk?"

* * *

He had invited her at his place for dinner. "Don't worry," he'd said quickly, as if to set aside any misconceptions, "Jack will be there. He hasn't forgotten about your hidden talent and is really anxious to figure it out. We'll just have dinner, and talk if you want. No pressure."

As much as the whole idea had made her more nervous than she was willing to admit, he was acting very sweet, and she could tell that he was really trying to put her at ease. So she had accepted. Besides, she was really curious about what he would have to say, and found herself hoping that he would broach the subject of the almost-kiss and what he had been feeling at the time. She found herself hoping that what he'd been feeling for her was more than just physical attraction, and _that_ scared her a little.

As per usual when she was particularly anxious, Emily ended up arriving twenty-five minutes early at his place, so she decided to remain in her car in the meantime, all the while stealing anxious glances at his building. Despite all of his reassurances, by definition him inviting her for dinner at his place looked everything like a date. Was that what this was? She didn't know how she was supposed to feel about all of this, and that made her feel self-conscious. An army of butterflies had permanently taken residence in her stomach since he'd called, and there was nothing she could do to send them on their way. While she waited she had nothing to do but think and dread and wonder, and every few minutes she had to stop herself from starting up her car and fleeing the scene altogether. The minutes seemed to stretch even longer than usual as she kept looking at the time on her dashboard. At 6:51 she decided that she'd waited long enough and that he probably wouldn't mind her showing up a few minutes early. Taking a deep breath to regain some composure, she picked up her keys, purse and bags, walked out of the car and down the corridor to his place.

She almost bolted again once she was standing at his door, the fight or flight instinct swaying dangerously towards the latter, but she took in a deep breath again, and knocked. It took a few seconds until she could hear running steps and then a high-pitched "Who is it?"

Emily couldn't help but smile at the sound of Jack's voice. Of course she knew he would be present, but somehow his childish voice made her feel a little calmer, reminding her of Hotch's softer side. His father and affectionate side, of which she'd only ever had a glimpse. Would he let her see more? She found herself wishing he would. "It's Emily Prentiss," she replied.

A second later she heard the deadbolt turn and then the door swung open, revealing father and son standing there to greet her. Emily couldn't help but notice that Hotch was standing behind his son, his hand on his shoulder, as if the boy acted as some sort of emotional shield between them. That's when she realized: he was nervous too. For some reason, that didn't make her feel any better though, because it only reminded her that he too had expectations of how this night would unwind, and he held his cards so close to his chest that she couldn't figure out what they were.

"I know I'm a little early," Emily said as a way of greeting, hoping her nervousness didn't reveal itself too much in her voice. She immediately noticed that he looked much better than the last time she had seen him, at the funeral. The sling was gone, and the cut on his forehead looked well on its way to showing nothing but a tiny scar above his brow. He was wearing jeans and a dark sweater, the sleeves pulled back over his forearms. He looked casual, and Emily was reassured that at least they were on the same page there; she herself had carefully considered what to wear, after all she wasn't exactly sure what to expect. So she had put some effort into looking nice, but not too nice, and tried to find the balance between 'FBI agent hands off' and 'trying to impress'. Either way, she didn't want to give the wrong impression. So in the end she had gone for a comfortable sweater, a casual skirt and boots.

He smiled slightly as he stood to the side, inviting her in. "Oh, no, that's perfectly fine. Please come in."

She smiled nervously as she crossed the threshold and handed him the wine bottle she had brought. "Here, I thought I would contribute to the dinner preparations," she said with a brief chuckle. Bringing wine had seemed appropriate a few hours earlier when she had thought about it, but now that he was standing in front of her, looking all grave and serious, she wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe she should have brought beer, the connotation would have been less loaded with meaning. Maybe she was seeing more into this than there really was?

He eventually returned her smile, a little too carefully for her taste, as he took the bottle from her shaking fingers. God, this was so awkward! Maybe it wasn't too late to change her mind? He would understand, she was sure he would.

"Thank you," he simply said as he leaned closer, and for a stunning moment Emily thought he was about to kiss her cheek and she held her breath at his unexpected presence in her personal space, her eyes widening his surprise. When she realized that wasn't his intention, she rolled her eyes at her overactive imagination, and stood still as he merely leaned past her to close the door behind her, brushing his arm against her back and leaving behind his distinct smell of soap and cologne. She let out a slow breath to get some control over her resident butterflies and quickly put a smile on her face when he returned to his previous position and gestured her to follow him in. "How are you feeling?" he asked as she followed him into his home, taking in the delightful smell of food.

"Okay, better… exhausted," she admitted as they entered the kitchen area. He threw her a brief look of understanding over his shoulder as he pulled out two wine glasses from the cupboard.

"It's probably just residual shock."

She nodded. "How about you?" she asked.

He shrugged slightly. "I'm fine. Glad it's finally over," he said as he gazed at her once more, this time holding her eyes, as if trying to convey more in a look than in words.

"Yeah, me too. It's been a crazy few weeks."

He nodded, still observing her carefully, almost too carefully, as if he knew that her lighthearted tone was just a façade hiding a much deeper relief. Emily felt like squirming, but she willed herself not to look away. This was important. This was-

"Agent Prentiss," a small voice said from her side, giving Emily an excuse to escape Hotch's intense gaze. She quickly turned to Jack, who was standing politely beside her, holding a folded piece of paper. "Could you show me how to make the planes again? Daddy showed me, but his planes aren't as cool as yours. They don't fly as good."

Emily threw Hotch an amused look and a raised eyebrow but he didn't take the bait. Instead he turned his attention to his son. "Jack, Agent Prentiss just got here, give her a few minutes to settle in, buddy."

Seeing the disappointment in Jack's eyes, Emily turned to his father again. "It's fine, Hotch, I can teach him now. That is, unless you need help with anything?"

He shook his head once. "No, it's all taken care of. You go ahead, I'll catch up with you in a minute."

She barely had time to reply before a small hand grabbed her fingers and pulled her away from the kitchen and into the living room. She chuckled a little at the boy's excitement, and upon seeing the bunch of folded paper in the area, she couldn't help but reflect on how similar to his father Jack was in the relentlessness department. It seemed that Jack wouldn't stop persisting until he had what he wanted. Like father like son, she thought, sending the butterflies into a frenzy.

She settled down on the couch and spent the next few minutes focusing on her handiwork and enjoying this quality time with a five-year old, for a moment putting aside her adult concerns and bringing out her own childish excitement at trying to make the perfect plane and watching Jack mimic her. A few minutes later, Hotch joined them, two glasses of wine in hand. He handed her a glass before sitting next to her. He took a sip as he grabbed one of her planes and looked at it from all angles before throwing it with a perfect wrist movement that sent it flying all the way into the kitchen.

Jack cheered, then ran to go and pick it up. It wasn't until he turned to her, that Emily noticed that Hotch was smiling, the first real – albeit small - smile of the night. "Very impressive Agent Prentiss."

"Did you see that?" Jack squealed in excitement as he returned, holding his new favorite plane close to his chest.

"Yeah, wasn't that awesome?" Emily replied with a giggle.

"Show daddy how to make them, so his can go as far as yours when he throws them!"

Emily started shaking her head, somehow the idea making her uncomfortable, until she met Hotch's challenging expression.

"Go ahead, Agent Prentiss, show me how it's done," he said with a raised eyebrow. There was something defying in his tone, maybe even a little playful, and Emily wasn't sure how to react. She didn't often get to see that side of him, and it was a little unsettling. She shook her head and took a sip of wine, both as a distraction and to calm her nerves.

She was saved from having to respond by the proverbial bell of the kitchen timer. Hotch seemed to notice how relieved she felt because she thought she saw a small satisfied smile on his face before he rose to his feet and invited her to the table. Puzzling man!

The meal was spent cheerfully enough, though the awkwardness and tension was still most definitely there every time they caught each other staring at the other. Emily was actually surprised at how good a cook he was, and when she asked him about it, he only shrugged, stating that he _could_ cook, and even enjoyed it, but he didn't get the chance to do it very often. "Jessica does most of the cooking for Jack, and myself, if she's feeling generous," he added.

Emily smiled as she leaned back into her chair and took a sip of wine. "Speaking of Jessica," she started in a teasing tone that made him look up with alarm. Her smile widened at his reaction. "Do you often discuss cases with her?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he tilted his head in a very familiar gesture. "What did she tell you?"

Emily shrugged. "Oh you know, she was really worried about me. When I asked her how she knew about my situation, she said you often discussed it with her." Emily tried to keep some laughter in her tone, but her question was as serious as it got. She really wanted to know what had prompted him to talk about her.

Being a lawyer by formation though, he deflected the undertone expertly. "Only as positive reinforcement when she cooks dinner," he replied cheekily with a quick wink.

Emily laughed as she shook her head. "Oh you're bad, she would kick your ass if she knew you just said that."

"Yes, I'm sure she would," he replied with a quiet chuckle.

After that, the tension eased a little and most of the conversation was spent around Jack, who seemed to have countless stories to tell about his friends, how he had played soccer again with his dad. How 'daddy' had kicked the ball over the fence and into the neighbor's swimming pool, how he was trying to convince his dad to get a dog like his friend Mitch, and so on. Emily didn't mind it one bit. For one it kept her mind from wandering to other things, especially to the conversation that Hotch and her had yet to have. Even though a part of her just wanted to get it over with, another part really enjoyed the familial atmosphere, often surprising herself with the thought that she could definitely get used to this.

Once dinner was over, Hotch excused himself to help Jack with his bed routine. Before following Jack upstairs, he turned to her, looking suddenly nervous. "This will take maybe half an hour. Will you wait?"

Emily nodded quietly before finding her voice again. "Yes, of course. Take your time."

He gave her a grateful, almost longing look before turning on his heels. Once alone, Emily made herself useful for the next half-hour, cleaning up a little in the kitchen. He had cooked, it was only fair that she should clean up. She was so caught up in her task, that she didn't hear him come back.

"You didn't have to do that."

His voice a few feet behind her made her jump. She turned around to face him. "Oh, no. My rule: you cook, I clean, no argument."

He smiled a little. "Well, thank you. Jack was disappointed that you couldn't play with him a little more," he said as he walked past her and around the kitchen counter. "I hope you won't find me too presumptuous, but I told him you would come back another day."

His meaning wasn't lost on her and she avoided his eyes as she took a seat on one of the kitchen stools. "Of course, he's an amazing kid."

He looked a little disappointed at this as he pursed his lips, but really, what did he want her to say? That of course she would be back to spend some time with _him_? It was way too soon for that. But maybe she could fix it without involving her feelings too much. "You're a great father, Hotch," she said seriously, quietly, gazing steadily at him until he met her eyes again. "I can see it every time I look at him."

That seemed to unsettle him because he sharply looked away. "Would you like anything for dessert? I didn't plan anything…" he said as he skimmed the contents of his cupboard, until he found what he was looking for. "Chocolate chip cookies?" he asked with raised eyebrows, making her smile slightly.

Once more with the expert deflection. Wasn't he the one pressing her to have a discussion? So far he'd spent a lot of effort at avoiding anything too emotional. Unfathomable man!

"Sure," she agreed and he set the box down on the counter and started working on opening the package.

"What you said about Jess earlier," he blurted out as he concentrated on his task. "I did tell her about you."

Emily gulped and her eyes widened, but he was so busy with the cookies that he didn't see it. "Oh?"

He finally looked up, resting his hands flat onto the counter surface. "She was here, that day when I received the picture in the mail." He returned his attention to the reluctant plastic wrap. "To be honest I don't remember how I acted, or if I said anything. But she called me out on it, and I told her about what was going on. I hope you don't mind." He finally managed to rip the wrap as he finished his sentence, so he pushed the box towards her.

Emily chose her cookie carefully. "No, I'm just glad you had someone to confide in."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "She said more, didn't she? What did she tell you?"

Emily smiled at his expression, wondering what he really had told Jessica to make him look so alarmed, and shook her head. "Not important. She meant well."

He didn't look very convinced, but after a few seconds nodded slowly. They remained silent for a moment as they munched on their cookies.

"It all started with that picture, didn't it?" She asked bluntly after the silence stretched for a little too long.

She had kind of pictured it in her mind, how he would choke on his cookie in surprise, but once more he surprised her when he merely met her gaze calmly. Emily waited impatiently while he finished swallowing.

"Yes and no. I ah…" He cleared his throat and stared down at the counter, frowning in concentration, as if struggling to find the right words. "You must know by now… I mean you must have noticed- I pride myself on keeping a cool head and not being affected by my desires," he stated quickly but clearly, and Emily could swear that he was blushing a little. It tugged at her heart. "And let's face it, I'm on the wrong side of forty, I wasn't born yesterday. Seeing a picture of a beautiful woman wouldn't be enough to make me fa-" He stopped himself and cleared his throat again. "What I mean is that it was more of a catalyst." He met her eyes at last with that intensity that was so particular to him. However familiar she was with that look, though, this time Emily had trouble holding it without wavering. "You're a beautiful woman, Emily," he added, succeeding in making her look down, "and I would have been blind not to notice the first time we met. But our situation, our job, there's always been something to make me push those feelings away before they could become an issue. That picture, it just made me aware again, though definitely with an unprecedented level of consciousness."

Emily nodded quietly. What else could she say? For as much as she could remember from her previous relationships, no man, except for this quiet, passionate man standing in front of her, had ever told her she was beautiful in such a way, without ulterior motive, just because he wanted her to know. She found herself tongue-tied. However as good as it was to hear him actually say the words and confirm some of her suspicions, she still wasn't quite sure what that meant, pragmatically. Was that it? Mere physical attraction? Was he hoping that she would return his interest? As long as she wasn't sure, she wasn't ready to divulge so much of herself. Not tonight. Not so soon.

She must have kept silent for too much, because he went on. "I'm sorry. I know you've never wanted the attention. But I needed to be truthful with you about this."

Was that really what he thought? That he was uninvited? That she wasn't open to the idea? Yes, she had been amazed and surprised ever since she'd discovered his attraction towards her, but as time went on, she'd started seeing him in a different light, and found herself wondering about the possibilities.

"I ah," she stopped upon finding her mouth to dry to speak. She swallowed and let out a nervous chuckle. "I don't know what to say."

He sighed softly. "I know. I don't expect you to say anything. I don't _expect_ anything. But I do hope that this won't keep you from wanting to work at the BAU."

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "Of course not, I love working at the BAU, I love working with you. Even though you can be kind of a pain in the ass at times," she added teasingly. Then she turned serious once more. "But Hotch, you're wrong about one thing," she started. "I _am _here, aren't I?" He seemed a little confused as to what she was implying, so she leaned her elbows on the counter and picked another cookie. "You invited me to dinner, and I said yes," she added. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ready to at least consider the possibility."

He raised both eyebrows at this. "At least consider the possibility?" he repeated slowly, making smile. "That doesn't sound very promising."

She shook her head in amusement. "You're not hearing me Hotch. But I think I'll leave you to ponder on what that means and call it a night," she said as she rose to her feet and quickly finished her second cookie before walking to the door.

He followed her to the door with a small smile and put his hand on the handle as she grabbed her purse from the hook. This was the awkward part of any date, but to her surprise he didn't make it awkward. Instead, he kept his distance, giving her the space he instinctively seemed to know she needed, and merely met her eyes with a smile and simply said, "I'm glad you said yes."

* * *

The next morning, after a fitful night of turning and tossing in excitement and confusion, Emily met the Bureau therapist for the first time. She was going with this willingly, almost eagerly, as she was well aware how beneficial this would be, so she was very open with Dr. Moors about the events surrounding Norland's obsession with her and how they had made her feel, and still did. It helped to talk about her nightmares and the overwhelming dread that still tightened her stomach every once in a while. However, there was a huge part of the story that she wasn't telling, and she could tell that it peaked Moors's curiosity. What was she not telling?

Had he been working for anybody else than the Bureau, she might have told him about how the case had somehow brought her and Hotch together and that _this _was what really agitated her. But despite doctor-patient confidentiality, she couldn't trust him not to report this. Even if technically there was nothing to report yet. People like Chief Strauss were often too interested in those details to use as political weapons, and she couldn't let this situation affect either of their jobs.

As tempted as she was by what Hotch seemed to be offering – it still wasn't very clear to her what that was – her trying to hide it from Dr. Moors was like a bucket of cold reality. It made her consider whether or not she was ready to hide a relationship, or if she would be willing to risk her job at the BAU – and his. No matter how long she thought on it, she couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer.

One second she felt stupid for even considering it: no matter what happened between them, he would still be her superior at work. Could she handle that? Be his equal one second and his subordinate the next? Could he? Despite years of working together, he didn't know her in a non-work environment, and she had been told countless times by frustrated boyfriends that she was a 'real piece of work' and 'high maintenance.' And Hotch liked control. Could he handle compromising some of this control to be with her?

But then a minute later she would remember his uncomfortable yet noble posture as he admitted some of his feelings the night before, his penetrating, longing looks, how vulnerable he looked when talking about his son, his beautiful albeit rare smile; and she could feel herself swaying. Hotch never did anything halfway, and she found herself wondering how this particular aspect of his personality would translate into a day-to-day relationship. She even found herself fantasizing about what kind of lover he would be, and it left her feeling intrigued and longing to learn more, longing to draw him out and find out.

The only way to resolve this, she decided that night as she got ready for bed, was to rationally discuss it with him, and then make a decision.

The weather was so nice the next morning when she woke up that she decided to go take a leisure walk in the park. Enjoying warm sips of her coffee as she walked unhurriedly, taking in the simple pleasures of this beautiful day, it suddenly came to mind that despite all her thinking about him, she hadn't actually talked to Hotch since that night. She hadn't even thanked him for cooking! Picking up her cell phone, she quickly sent him a text.

_Thanks for dinner, had a great time. Sorry to say but I think I might very well be in love – with your son. Went to see Moors yesterday, it helped. But why do I feel like _we_ still have a lot to talk about?_

She hit send with more than a little trepidation, not really paying attention to where she was going. Though she could call him, texting seemed a little more casual, and for some reason it seemed to fit what she wanted to convey better. She was curious how he would respond using that medium, though, since he usually preferred more direct confrontations. Moments later her phone beeped in her hand, making her heart skip a beat.

_You surprise me, I thought if there were one thing you could have fallen in love with in only a few hours, it would be my exceptional chocolate chip cookies. Glad to hear Moors was helpful somewhat. _

The message ended there and Emily was torn between a smile at his light flirtation, and disappointment that he hadn't replied to her most important question. Just as she was about to put the phone away, it beeped again.

_And because there are some things you can't share with a therapist. Oh, wait, Jack just scored, I have to cheer._

Emily smiled, and then frowned in bemusement as she read the last part. _What? Where are you?_

_The park, soccer practice. _

Emily stopped walking, and looked up in sudden realization. Because they lived at different ends of the same neighborhood, Emily was aware that he sometimes took Jack to the very park she was walking in, and she remembered that they had some soccer fields near the playgrounds. Looking around to figure out where she was, she walked a few meters down the path and sure enough, there were the soccer fields. There were a bunch of kids running after the ball like a fish school in the ocean, and a line of cheering parents along the lines. She was too far away to recognize anyone, but she decided to walk closer, just to make sure. As she got closer she scanned the scattered crowd, and it's only once she got near the small bleachers that she saw him. He was sitting on a bench by himself, elbows resting on his thighs and phone between his fingers, his eyes on the game. Emily followed his eyes and sure enough, there was Jack, running around with the other children.

Picking up her phone again, she typed in with a mischievous smile. _Wow, I didn't know you were so intent on beating your son at soccer that you would enroll in morning practices. What kind of a father are you? _

She hit send and looked up to watch his reaction. She wasn't sure if he was ready for her teasing, but she figured that if he was really serious about this, about her, he would learn soon enough not to take her – or himself - too seriously.

The moment he got her message he looked down at the phone between his fingers, and a second later he let out an amused huffing sound that warmed Emily's heart a little, then set to type in his reply.

Satisfied with his response, Emily approached slowly and she was only a couple of meters from him when her phone beeped again.

_The worst kind. I should be watching him kick the other team's ass, but I can't seem to focus. If I accept popular wisdom, it appears I have a woman on my mind._

Emily gasped audibly as she read the last part. Hotch had told her about being attracted to her, but this last part implied more than physical attraction somewhat. She had never known Hotch to be the flirtatious kind before, but once more he had completely thrown her off. That man was a complete puzzle, and that only served to intrigue her more.

"Prentiss!"

Emily looked up to find him looking at her in shock at finding her a few feet away. Though she still felt a little breathless at his last message, she smiled at his surprised expression. "Hi," she said with a small guilty wave before she walked over. This allowed them both some time to recover, as he also seemed a little discomfited to face her so soon after writing his last message. Clearly he had appreciated the casualness of texting as well.

"I was taking a walk down the path when you said you were at soccer practice, and it occurred to me that you might be here, so…" she explained, hoping he wouldn't consider this as an intrusion on his time with his son.

He stood up from the bench and smiled slightly, putting his hands into his pockets. She couldn't remember ever seeing him wear just a simple t-shirt, and she took a second to enjoy the view.

"It's good to see you," he said quietly as he looked down at her. After a second he gestured for them to walk, and it made her notice the not-so-subtle sideways glances she was getting from some of the women there. Apparently he was high on the list for the most eligible bachelor in this community of parents, and for some reason that amused her, especially since he seemed aware of it but not giving it attention at all. He must appear so mysterious to those women, she thought.

They walked away from the other supporters, though keeping parallel to the field so that they could keep an eye on the game. "How did it go with Dr. Moors?" he asked after a moment.

"Fine," she nodded, "it has helped me a lot in realizing that it's really over and that I don't have to look over my shoulder anymore. Have you heard anything from the DA?"

"Nothing new, it's as we thought, although Norland's lawyer is trying to plead insanity. Though I think we have strong enough behavioral evidence to show that Norland is as mentally sane as you and me, but he _will_ undergo some psychiatric tests. He was transferred a few days ago."

Emily nodded, though she was a little disturbed at the news. She stopped walking when she felt his fingers touch her arm. "Prentiss, rest assured that I'll do everything in my power to make sure he gets what he deserves."

She didn't need to ask what he thought _that_ was, and despite her anger and even hatred towards Norland, she felt a little queasy at the idea. So she just nodded and started walking again, changing the subject.

"Can I ask… Do you remember what happened that night?"

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It's just, I mean obviously I _know_ what happened but… I can't help but feel like there are parts of the sequence missing, like I just zoned out. The only thing I remember clearly are feelings and impressions."

"I remember you were much braver than I would have been in your situation," he offered.

Emily chuckled derisively. "You're kidding right?"

"No, you weren't afraid of him. That's more than I can say for myself."

Emily threw him a dubious look at this, but he was looking down at the ground, so she merely shook her head, dismissing his comment for the moment. "You're right though, I wasn't afraid of him, and in retrospect that scares me. All I wanted was to work off all of my anger on his slimy face, all I could think about was 'touch me and you're dead,' while I kept _pushing_ him to do just that. That's not like me, and I hate that he had that power over me. Under the circumstances it such feelings were dangerous, they made me feel reckless."

"But powerful. I think that helped in destabilizing him. He expected you to be afraid of him, that's the one thing he had predicted wrong in his scenario. He had _me_ figured out pretty well, but all of those weeks of letting you know that he was watching you, expecting that it would break you. It didn't, and I think that threw him off."

The distant shrill sound of a whistle made them both look up at the field, realizing that the game was over. They made their way back towards the bleachers at a faster pace, and Emily smiled when she saw Jack running towards them with a wide grin.

"Daddy, I scored twice!" he said, bubbling with excitement.

Hotch crouched down to his level. "That was amazing Jack! High five!"

"Agent Prentiss, did you see?" Jack asked, squinting up at her in the morning sun.

"You, sir, were absolutely awesome," Emily replied seriously, making him giggle.

"Ready for ice cream?" Hotch asked his son who nodded quickly, and then looked up at her. "Emily? Ice cream?"

"I… It's really tempting, but I think I'll pass and leave you two men to enjoy your time together."

Hotch stood up again at this, putting his hand around Jack's shoulder. "Are you sure? We would love it if you could join us. Right, Jack?"

Jack nodded. "What's your favorite ice cream, Agent Prentiss? Mine's strawberry."

Emily smiled. "Chocolate."

Jack shrugged. "They always have tons of chocolate ice cream," he said, as if the only thing keeping her from joining them was the possibility that the ice cream place might not hold her favorite flavor.

Emily smiled at his logic. "Yes I'm sure they do, but I need to go home. I'll eat ice cream with you guys another day, alright?"

"Okay," Jack said, satisfied with the deal.

Emily turned to Hotch again. "When are you going back to work?"

"Wednesday." That was in a couple of days. "You?"

"Next Monday." There was an awkward silence, but Emily shook herself soon enough. "Alright then, great job on the goals Jack," she said with a thumbs-up. "Thanks Hotch," she said meaningfully as she met his eyes.

He nodded in acknowledgment, but she thought she could detect a little disappointment in his eyes as she turned on her heels with a wave. That look made her release a shaky breath.

"I wasn't afraid of him, not for myself," he called out after she'd walked a couple of meters away, making her turn back in his direction. "But I was terrified of what he was capable of."

_Capable of doing to __**you**__,_ Emily finished his thought in her mind. She nodded slowly, proud that he trusted her enough with the truth. "I know," she acknowledged gravely, but then grinned as she started walking backwards. "See you later Aaron."

* * *

End part 7


	9. Part 8

**Part 8**

Hotch was starting to have hope.

Emily was treading carefully around him, he could see it, but in truth he couldn't blame her. He knew he had surprised her, and that she needed time to get used to the idea. However over the last few days she'd given him some signs that she was warming up to the idea. She had accepted his invitation to dinner, had slightly flirted with him, and had called him by his first name, which for as long as he had known her had never happened before.

She was getting more comfortable around him, and she was considering it.

Hotch had never shied away from a challenge, as boldness was integral to his personality, but in this case he really wanted her to have the last word. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her in his life, he recognized that now, but he didn't want to pressure her. So his plan was simple: he would make his feelings known, and would leave her free to walk away. There was a lot at stake, and he couldn't ask anything of her that would put her in an awkward position. Having a relationship with him would be risky career-wise, and he didn't want her to ever regret taking that risk if she so chose. Yet he could offer no guarantee. Being chief of a high profile unit meant that he was often under the microscope, and he wouldn't always be able to protect her from that. But knowing her, she probably wouldn't expect him to.

And what about the man whom, as far as he knew, she was still dating? She hadn't said anything, and he hadn't asked. But maybe it was time.

He didn't hear from her again after they'd met in the park, and Hotch thought he would give her time and not force the issue. But on Tuesday night he became a little restless, feeling as if he needed to speak now, before he returned to work the next morning. She wouldn't be back to the BAU for a few days, leaving her some time to make a decision. He wasn't looking for anything decisive or final, but he needed to know at least if he was right to hope. Jess offered out of the blue to stay with Jack that night, saying that she had missed him over the last week, and though he knew she loved Jack like he was her own, Hotch didn't entirely buy it. There was just that twinkle in her eye that made him suspicious.

Nevertheless, Hotch took advantage of the opportunity and didn't think twice before driving to Emily's place. He knew this was bold and that there was a chance she might be mad at him for showing up unannounced, or that she might not even be there, but he needed to take the chance.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, or rather how to say it, and he kept trying to come up with ways to introduce the subject, but nothing came to mind, even as he stepped into the elevator, walked down her corridor and knocked on her door.

He held his breath as he waited, until he heard footsteps, and then the latch. The door swung open, and there she was, her eyes wide.

"Hotch! Is everything okay?" she asked, her eyes checking him over quickly.

"Everything's fine," he replied hurriedly but calmly, to put her concerns to rest. "Is this a bad time?"

She looked like she was getting ready for bed, with her hair pulled up in a careless bun and wearing PJ pants and a sweater vest. She appeared much younger somehow, and he realized that she wasn't wearing her usual make-up.

"No! No, come in," she said with a smile once she snapped out of her surprise. "Can I get you anything? I was just about to make some tea," she asked as Hotch followed her in. The room was cool from AC air despite the humid heat outside, and he suddenly understood her need for a sweater. Wearing only a t-shirt, he however had to fight a shiver at the abrupt change in temperature. He had only been to her place once or twice before, but the place was still as immaculately neat as before. Was she a neat freak? he asked himself, amused at the thought.

"No, thanks, I'm fine," Hotch replied as he watched her pour hot water into her cup, immerging the tea leaves. There was something really intimate in seeing her in such an informal setting, and Hotch tried not to let his eyes travel down the length of her body and notice how fetching she was. He needed to focus. He had things to say.

But where to start?

She was watching him with a little bemusement now, waiting for him to speak his piece. After a second, she smiled and gestured him to follow her to the living room, where she turned off the TV and settled down on the couch.

He decided not to sit directly next to her, but rather took the sofa chair opposite her. When he looked up she was still watching him intently, with still a small trace of amusement. She wouldn't make this easy for him, would she?

"I- Sorry to come unannounced, I ah…" Suddenly feeling like this was a bad idea, he rose to his feet again. "You were busy watching a movie, I can come back some other ti-"

"Aaron, just sit down," she said sternly, stopping him with her fingers around his wrist. They were cool to the touch. "You came here to tell me something. Go ahead," she said encouragingly as she gave his arm a small tug. "I promise I won't laugh," she added with a mischievous twinkle in her eye that made him smile. Hotch yielded to the slight pressure and sat back down, this time next to her.

"Right," he said with humor as he leaned his arms on his thighs and joined his hands together. He inhaled. "The other night, you said you were considering the possibility of…us, but there's something that I… That is, may I ask… what happened to the man you were meeting at the restaurant? I don't mean to pry, but-"

She shrugged with a quick, decisive shake of the head. "Not going to happen. I think an association with me was a little too adventuresome for his taste."

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "Adventuresome?"

"His way of being polite, but I think he meant freaking dangerous," she said.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Hotch said seriously, though he had to restrain a smile at her words.

She tilted her head, trying to meet his eyes. "I'm not, but are _you_, really?"

"Yes. You deserve more than this, Emily."

"Hotch, I don't even know what _this _is."

"Well, I think you know how I feel about you-"

"Do I?" she interrupted again, making Hotch stare at her in surprise.

"Don't you?" he threw back, a little confused. Hadn't he told her, just a few nights ago?

She shrugged lightly, one corner of her mouth tugging upward. "I might be a profiler, but I'm no mind reader. All I know," she started as if she was reciting something she'd learned by heart, "is that you think I'm beautiful, and that you feel some physical attraction towards me, as evidenced by you almost kissing me," she finished with a noncommittal shrug and a half-smile that showed her dimples. Despite her apparent amusement, Hotch could hear the serious undertone in her voice.

Hotch's brow furrowed slightly at her words. Did she really think this was purely physical? Then she had misunderstood him before, when he had told her that seeing her picture alone would not have been enough to enthrall him. It was _her_, all of her.

He shook his head and met her eyes steadily. "I think you know me well enough to know by now that if this was merely physical I wouldn't be here."

She frowned, and he realized that it could sound a little strange without further explanation. "What I mean, is that if this was merely physical, I wouldn't have let it go so far. There's too much at risk, for both of us, for mere physical attraction." He sighed, then dove right in. "I'm here because I can't control the feelings I have for you. But mostly because I find myself not wanting to."

Up till then she had been a little amused by his lack of eloquence, he could tell, hell he was too, but her expression changed into something more understanding, softer, at his last words. It gave him the courage to keep going.

"Emily I don't expect you to say anything now, but I just wanted to tell you that, if you so choose, I'd…very much… like you to be a part of my life. I'm not suggesting we jump into anything right away," her eyebrows rose with amusement at this, "but that we could-"

Her hand on his forearm stopped him, and he was reminded of another time when she had made the same gesture. It had sent the same goose bumps along his skin.

"Excuse me, there's something I need to, ah…check," she said as she put her teacup on the coffee table. Confused, he half expected her to rise to her feet and leave, but instead she stared at him squarely before swiftly bridging the distance between them, her eyes holding his as she leaned closer until he could feel her breath, hot against his chin. She hovered for a second and raised her eyebrows, as if daring him to close the gap, but he didn't, despite the erratic beating of his heart against his chest at her closeness. God he wanted this, he wanted her, but it had to be her call. The only movement he allowed himself was to raise his hand and touch a lock of her hair from the tip of his fingers. Her hair was so soft, and her eyes so wide and spellbinding-

Before he could finish the thought she was leaning in, firmly pressing her lips against his. She pulled back again before he could react, but only far enough to look into his eyes. Hotch held his breath as he held her gaze with increasing longing. His lips tingled where hers had been, and all he could think about was how soft and intoxicating she'd felt. Praying that she would do it again. After a second or two of gazing into his eyes as if trying to read into his soul, she suddenly seemed to give up her inner battle. She let out a soft sigh and fell back into him, once more bringing her lips to his. Hotch was prepared this time, so he immediately responded, emboldened by the way her lips quickly parted under his. Their breaths mingled where their lips met, as his fingers fully tangled into her hair and his other hand came up to cup her cheek and neck. Shifting his position on the couch so that he was better facing her, he deepened the kiss, tracing her lips with his tongue, until she met him halfway, the intimate contact making her gasp and him shiver. He felt her cool fingers slide into his hair and around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as lips and tongues explored and taunted and caressed.

When the thought that he never wanted this to stop crossed Hotch's mind, he was suddenly reminded that it _did_ have to stop. At least for now. He forced himself to slow down and slowly pull away, trying to catch his breath as he leaned his forehead against hers.

If he'd known that kissing Emily Prentiss was this mind-blowing, he wouldn't have been able to resist that night in the safehouse. Now that he knew what she tasted like though, he felt even more intrigued by her, puzzled at the complexity of her. All he could think about was that he needed more, he needed more if he was ever to figure her out. He closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing and blood under control.

After a couple of seconds of leaning his forehead against hers, he felt his lips shape into a small smile as he remembered what she'd said before. "Well?" he asked, his voice sounding husky to his own ears. He cleared his throat softly.

"Huh?" she replied, sounding a little disoriented, much to his satisfaction.

"You said you needed to check something," he replied, his fingers still lazily caressing the soft skin of her neck.

She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow, her breathing still coming in quick intakes. "Chemical reactions all present and accounted for," she said with a grin as she pulled back slowly, letting her hands trail along his arms until they rested in her lap.

Hotch immediately missed her warmth and touch. He bit his lips and raised an eyebrow in response to her quip. "You think?" He shook his head, as if to clear it, before returning his eyes on her. He gazed at her for a moment, taking in the disheveled state of her hair, her pink cheeks and lips and her sparkling eyes, wondering whether he should bring up what this meant and risk ruining the moment. But then he figured he wouldn't be Aaron Hotchner if he didn't address the situation in a straightforward way, so he cleared his throat a little. "Emily, I um…" he frowned at his lack of eloquence, then tried again. "I need to ask. I know where I'd like this to be going, but where do _you_ think this leaves us?"

He realized then that despite what had just happened, he still dreaded her answer. But then she reached out with one hand and closed her fingers around his. He could tell from her slight tremor that she didn't feel as confident as the gesture would have him believe, and that reassured him somewhat.

"I don't know," she replied truthfully at last, making him look down at their joined hands. "But," she started again, making him meet her eyes once more, "I'd like to try and find out."

He stared for a few seconds, trying to see in her eyes if she really meant it. "Are you sure?"

He watched, mesmerized, as she leaned close again and kissed the corner of his lips softly, like a promise. "Yes," she said simply, her breath fluttering against his lips.

He squeezed her fingers and his other hand came up to caress her cheek, making her smile and lean into his touch. Deciding that this was the moment or never, he pulled back and rose to his feet, reluctantly letting go of her hand.

"Where are you going?" she asked as her eyes followed him up, caught by surprise.

"I should go," he said as he gazed down at her, trying to contain the burst of feelings that threatened to make his chest explode.

She stood up too, the movement bringing her almost nose-to-nose with him, close in his personal space. "You don't have to go yet, we still have some things to talk about-"

He interrupted her with a brief kiss, just because he could, and he smiled in elation at her immediate response. "We do," he agreed as he pulled back, noticing with some satisfaction that she followed him for a second, almost making her topple over. "But I think we both need some time to process, to rationalize this. Well, I do, in any case." He added with a small shrug at her amused expression. He resisted kissing that teasing smile off her face, and softly squeezed her shoulder instead, letting his fingers linger on her arm. Then he forced himself to turn on his heels.

"Yes, very wise," she replied from behind him as she walked him to the door. He grinned at the smile in her voice.

He stopped and turned to her again when they reached the door. "I'm going back to work tomorrow," he said, "but call me if you need anything, or if you need to talk about this."

"You still don't believe me, do you?" she asked, sounding more curious than incredulous.

He sighed. "Emily, until a few days ago I never would have imagined that you would be willing to even give this a second thought. When I drove here tonight, my only goal was to find out whether I should hope or not. And it turns out you gave me so much more to hope for… It's just a lot to take in, and I need some time to-"

"Rationalize it," she finished with a knowing smile, "I know."

Hotch nodded, glad that she understood.

"Well, maybe this will help make this real for now," she started again before walking up to him and circling her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Hotch returned it immediately, taking a deep breath against her neck and relishing in the feeling of her slender body snug against his.

"Yes, that helps, but I could use a little more persuasion," he said cheekily.

He felt her chuckle a little, and she pulled back. "Alright then, off you go. Call me if _you_ need to talk about this." She said with a quick wink.

Hotch smiled as he gave her one last happy look, then he opened the door and left.

* * *

Hotch was an expert at keeping a tight reign over his emotions – most of the time anyway. So he hoped that the rest of the team attributed his uncharacteristic ebullience that next morning to just being happy to go back to work.

The minute he came in JJ accosted him with a welcoming smile and a new case. Three murders committed over the last three weeks in Atlanta. The local police had just started connecting the three murders, and now they requested the BAU's help in catching this serial killer. This meant that he would be away for a few days. He sighed at the thought as he prepared his files for the briefing. But then he realized that maybe this was a good thing. This time away would allow them both some time to process the new developments in their relationship.

Gathering his paperwork, Hotch walked to the conference room, where he was met with happy greetings and one or two 'good to have you back.'

"Thanks," he replied, with a genuine, albeit small smile, "it's good to be back."

"Have you heard from Emily?" Reid asked as they all settled.

"As a matter of fact, I have," Hotch replied, keeping his tone business-like. "She says she's feeling fine, better. She'll be back on Monday."

They all nodded, and then got to work.

Between the flight and the first stages of investigation, the day passed quickly for the team and Hotch barely had a second to himself all day as he focused on the case. Every few hours, the memory of her teasing expression or their kisses would spring to mind, making him long to call her, just to make sure that it was real. It all felt so dreamlike, somehow. But then things got busy again and he didn't get any opportunities to get enough privacy to call her.

They worked well into the night, but eventually Hotch called it a night, sending them all to bed. They would start again in the morning, with fresh eyes and fresh minds.

Once in his hotel room, Hotch picked up his phone again, then looked at the clock. 3:09 am. It was too late to call her, but on impulse he flipped his phone open and started typing.

He didn't want to make it too personal, so he went with the simple truth: _Another nasty case._ _Missed you in the field today, it's not the same without you. AH_

He hit send and put his phone on the night table, then set the alarm clock for 6:15 am before dropping his head onto the pillow.

His eyes flew open when he heard the distinct 'incoming message' beep coming from his phone, only a minute or two later. Could she be awake at this late hour? Curious, he reached out and picked up his phone again.

_Wow, 3am. You must be getting old, going to bed so early. I missed you too. Get some sleep. Em_

He chuckled out loud at her cheeky reply, and then noticed how she had used the 'I' pronoun. He had been careful not to use it in his own message, but of course she had seen right through him.

Feeling a little lighter, he was asleep within minutes.

When he woke up three hours later, she was still on his mind, but he resolutely pushed thoughts of her to the back of his mind, so that he could focus on the case once more. The day passed pretty much like it had the day before with the team splitting up to interview witnesses and suspects, refine victimology or work on a geographical profile. He had told Emily that he'd missed her on the field, and it was true. Not only was her input always valuable, but they all felt how big of a difference it made to be one profiler short.

The day went by quickly again. By midnight they were all tired, but Hotch could feel some additional pressure building up in everyone's behavior. They were running out of time.

When he got to his room, he picked his phone again. _Are you awake?_

He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and he was in the middle of brushing his teeth when his phone beeped.

_What's up?_ It read.

_Something not making sense in the case._ He sent back.

He started when his cell started ringing in his hand, instead of just beeping. He looked at the caller ID, which confirmed his suspicion. He flipped his phone open with a smile and brought it to his ear eagerly.

"I love a good puzzle," she said energetically on the other end of the line before he could even greet her, "tell me about the case."

* * *

She didn't crack the case per se, it was more of a team effort, but she had definitely suggested a few things that none of them had thought about before, and in the end it led them to finding the UnSub, on the end of that third day. Of course Hotch could never admit where these new ideas had come from - he could hardly admit to sharing a midnight phone call with Prentiss - so he didn't say anything, though he felt a little uneasy for not giving her the credit she deserved.

Sitting by himself on the plane that night, he sent her another text message. _Case solved. Turns out you were right. Thanks for your invaluable input, made all the difference. Dave has invited all of us for a BBQ on Sunday. He'll call you, act surprised. In the meantime, are you free on Saturday?_

This time she didn't respond right away, but a couple of hours later, just as he opened the door to his place and dropped his bags to the floor, his phone beeped.

_Glad I could help. Free as a bird. It's summer, let's do something fun._

* * *

Hotch gathered that 'something fun' implied some kind of outdoor activity, so Jack and he picked her up around 3pm that next day to go to the National Zoo.

She looked happy to see them again. Energetic and full of life, she spent the afternoon alternatively teasing Hotch and teaching Jack some trivia she remembered about the animal kingdom. 'Did you know that the term monkey only applies to primates with tails? That means that chimps are not monkeys. Who knew, right?' And…'Did you know that the baby of a male lion and female tiger is called a liger? They don't happen in the wild though…' Hotch was content to wander through the different pens quietly, listening to her animated voice, amused by the contents of her conversation, and moved by the way she was with Jack. She was just so naturally charming, and he could tell that Jack was having as much fun as he did spending time with her.

He had to constantly restrain himself from touching her, she was attracting him like a magnet, but every once in a while he would indulge a little and stand a little closer than was necessary and smell her mix of shampoo and sunblock, or put a hand against her back, or touch her arm. He could tell she knew what he was doing, since she met his eyes every time. He couldn't wait until they were alone again.

They went to dinner afterwards, and Hotch chose a small town diner to make sure he wouldn't meet with anyone he knew. The atmosphere was informal as the three of them enjoyed their fill of burgers and French fries, all the while looking at the digital pictures that Jack had taken of some of the animals, sometimes catching part of Emily's face or arms or other unidentifiable body parts. After exchanging a look with her, Hotch carefully deleted those pictures.

On the drive back, it didn't take long before Jack fell asleep on the back seat, exhausted.

"I had a great time today," she said quietly from the passenger seat. Despite wearing sunblock all day, her cheeks and nose had turned a little pink, and Hotch was once again struck at how beautiful and relaxed she looked today.

"As did I," he smiled. "You're amazing with Jack, do you know that? He won't ever forget this visit to the zoo, I'm sure," he replied, throwing her quick looks while keeping an eye on the road. There was no mistaking it, she seemed to be glowing in the warm tones of the setting sun. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Which could be a little dangerous when he was behind the wheel. Unable to stop himself anymore, he reached out and took hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers and relishing in the feeling of her palm against his.

She gave him a warm smile. "I'm glad you think so, I really enjoy his company," she said as she covered their hands with her free hand.

"Do you ever want kids of your own?" he asked before he could stop himself, before he realized it made him sound like he was seeing that far into their relationship. But that wasn't how he'd meant it. He was just curious.

She looked at him in surprise for a second, but then redirected her gaze to the road. "Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

She gave a small shrug. "It's complicated."

Seeing that she wasn't particularly forthcoming, he didn't push it and changed the subject. It occurred to him that they hadn't really talked about how this would play at work. They were taking it slow, which was good, but they needed to discuss how much the team needed to know.

By the time they reached her building, they agreed that they would try to hide it for now, at least until they had a better idea of where their relationship was going. It wouldn't be easy to hide this from a bunch of behavior analysts, especially from Dave and Morgan, but he'd seen how good of an actress she could be, and she had little doubt that he'd be able to act 'as sternly as usual' around her. He only wished he could have as much confidence in himself as she did.

They parted with a goodnight kiss that had him longing for more and her walking up to her place on shaky legs.

* * *

The next day Hotch drove to Dave's place for his invitation to a BBQ. Thinking that it would be kind of boring for Jack since there would be no children of his age around, he left him at a friend's house for the day. The weather was hot and humid despite the cloud cover, announcing some imminent rain.

When he got there, most of the team was already present, except for Garcia. Following his nose for BBQ-smelling smoke, he found them all in the backyard, casually chatting. Hotch greeted the team with a nod, immediately noticing as he made his way to the chef that Emily was sitting with JJ and Will, holding Henry in her lap. Dave was busy flipping burgers, though he was still partaking in the various conversations that were happening all at once. Hotch walked up to him and shook his hand in greeting.

"Glad you could make it. There's beer and wine in the cooler, help yourself and make yourself at home," Dave said, quite the true host. Smiling, Hotch grabbed himself a drink and took a seat by Morgan and Reid, catching up on their conversation easily, though his thoughts were with the small group next to theirs. She had given him a small smile in greeting, acting the perfectly professional Agent Prentiss, but their eyes had lingered on each other longer than was appropriate. They had to be careful. This was their first test, they had to pass, otherwise they were doomed.

A few moments later, Garcia and Kevin made their entrance, bringing with them some lighthearted banter and laughter. Though he might not seem like it, Hotch always enjoyed those little get-togethers – he felt like most of the time they saw each other on some of the worst days of their lives: exhausted, stressed out, desperate. But these casual meetings always reminded him that he thoroughly enjoyed each of his teammate's company. This felt especially nice after that last case, and the events surrounding Norland's capture. They needed to find their personal connection with each other again if they wanted to keep making a good team.

After a couple of hours of burgers, hot dogs and casual conversation and joking, Hotch stood to get a soda out of the cooler, but finding it empty, he suggested he go into the house to fill it up again.

"I'll give you a hand," Emily suddenly said as she rose to follow him into the house, exchanging a brief look with him as she maneuvered through the patio chairs.

"You guys need help?" Morgan asked, but Emily shook her head.

"No, I think we're good."

Hotch sighed in relief as he walked into the Air Conditioned house, Emily on his heels. He smiled at her briefly, allowing himself to really look at her for the first time that day. She was wearing a tank top and skirt, her hair curling slightly in the humidity, framing her face. He could still detect a trace of sunburn on her nose and cheeks from the day before, and that seemed to make her eyes sparkle even more. He was yearning to touch her, had been since the moment he had laid eyes on her hours before, but the setting was too risky. As they made their way into the kitchen, he promised himself he wouldn't do anything stupid. He would keep his hands to hims-

Before he could finish the thought, she had taken hold of his arm and pulled him back towards her. Her lips met his passionately the instant he was facing her, her hands going to his shoulders and behind his neck. She pulled back without warning, letting him go as quickly as she had pulled him to her, and walked around him to the fridge, leaving him a little stunned, still holding the cooler.

He shook his head at her as he stepped closer, leaving the cooler in the sink to get rid of the melted water.

She smiled as she caught his admonishing look. "What?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "Ice?"

Her smile remained and she opened the freezer, grabbing two icepacks and handing them to him. He purposefully let his fingers brush against hers as he took the icepacks, before placing them into the cooler. She handed him a couple of beer bottles next, once again meeting his eyes as their fingers touched. At one point Hotch couldn't resist teasing her with an icy finger against the back of her neck, and she yelped at the sensation. She threw him a look of such astonishment at his playfulness that he had to do it again. This time she chuckled and swapped his hand away before returning to their task. They were so absorbed in their little game that they both jumped guiltily when someone cleared their throat from the doorway.

They turned to find Dave watching them, a grave expression on his face.

Hotch opened his mouth to say something, but Dave stopped him with a raised hand. "It's not my place to say anything," he said as he shook his head. He gave them a warning look, then sighed. "I hope you know what you're doing."

He left as quietly as he'd come in, leaving them both with that sinking feeling that comes with being busted. Emily was the first to speak. "Do we?" she asked in a whisper. "Do we know what we're doing, Hotch? Are we crazy for even attempting this?"

Hotch turned to her in surprise. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, not about you, but I'm just wondering if maybe this isn't a good idea."

Hotch frowned a little at this. "That sounds a lot like seconds thoughts, Emily."

She sighed in frustration as she shook her head. "Well, you have to admit, our secret fell through pretty fast. We went on like, one date, and Dave's already figured us out."

Hotch nodded, though he let his eyes return to where Dave had stood only a few seconds before. He had looked a little disappointed by their behavior, but not entirely disapproving. He had cautioned them, but had made it clear enough that he would adopt the 'don't ask don't tell' policy. Maybe this would be easier than they'd thought.

"You know," Hotch said pensively as he let his hand rest against her shoulder blade, "I think it'll be fine. Dave won't say anything."

She seemed to relax under his touch. "How do you know?"

"I think he just told us." He brought his gaze back to her. "But if you find that makes you feel too uncomfortable, we'll-"

She kissed him quickly again, then gave a short, satisfied nod when he didn't add anything. Hotch wondered if her kissing him would always leave him that speechless.

She smiled. "I told you, I wasn't having second thoughts, I was merely stating some obvious issues that seemed to be important at the time."

Hotch smiled, as he pulled her to him in a quick half-hug. "Right. Come on, let's get these folks something to drink."

He decided not to worry too much. They were a team after all, they always covered each other's backs.

* * *

End Part 8

I know this last part is a little different, more about moments than an actual narrative, but I wanted to show how their relationship could grow in the days right after their 'agreement'. Still figuring out how to act with and around each other. I think both characters have really passionate personalities, but they're also very rational, so I figured they would tend to think about this rationally in public, and enjoy their passionate side in private ;-)

Next, the epilogue…


	10. Epilogue

Alright folks, this is it! I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have! Thanks again for the reviews, you guys have been amazing!

**Epilogue**

* * *

_7 months later_

The day had been exhausting and stressful, and Emily longed for a quiet evening of just doing nothing and worrying about nothing. All she wanted was some food, a comfortable couch, and take off her shoes. A glass of wine would be nice too. And hopefully Hotch would be there to make all of those things feel even better.

She had called him a few hours ago, and though he was still at work at the time, he told her he would be done early so he would meet her back at his place. Emily found a parking spot, then walked to his door. Using her key, she let herself in quietly.

She was immediately greeted by the wonderful smell of food, making her stomach grumble in anticipation. The house was quiet and dark, it was late, so she silently dropped her bags onto the floor and made her way to the kitchen. There was very little evidence of cooking, probably a result of Hotch's OCD tendencies, but Emily looked inside the fridge, and smiled at his thoughtfulness for leaving her a plate.

"Hey."

Emily turned to find him coming into the kitchen to greet her, still wearing his suit, though his tie and jacket were long gone. There was just something about him without a tie that she always found very alluring. "Hey," she greeted back as she leaned in to kiss him. She had intended it to be brief, a quick welcoming kiss, but she sighed the moment their lips touched as she realized how much she needed this right now. How much she needed _him_. So she stopped him from pulling away with her hands against his neck and instead leaned into him even more, deepening the kiss unexpectedly.

When she did pull back, he held onto her shoulders for a moment. "Are you alright?" he asked, with a touch of concern. Not that her kissing him in such a passionate way was unusual, but he knew her enough to know that this was different. This was tinged with desperation. "How did it go in court?" he asked with sudden dread.

She sighed with a small grimace as she stepped out of his arms and put her plate into the microwave. "Oh, you know… Is Jack asleep?"

He nodded absently, still unwaveringly staring at her.

"It went fine," she said when she realized he wouldn't let it go.

"And the cross-examination?"

She half-smiled. "A piece of cake. You trained me well with all of your great and very thorough drills."

He smirked at the sarcasm in her voice. "Good. But something didn't go so well," he stated, turning serious again. "What happened? Was there any trouble?"

Using the term 'trouble' had kind of become their code word for talking about other people finding out about their relationship. It had first started during the early days of their relationship, after Dave had found them in his kitchen, being a little too familiar with one another. At work that next day, when Hotch came out of Dave's office with his usual stern expression, Emily had asked: 'any trouble?' Fortunately, Hotch's honest talk with Dave that day had in fact clarified a few things and made the situation better between the two men, but since then, every time one of them asked if there was any 'trouble', they were usually referring to people discovering their secret. And though Dave had found out fairly quickly, the others had either not figured it out yet, or had decided to pretend they hadn't. In the end, Emily had told JJ after a couple of months, not only because she'd needed to share the news with someone other than Hotch, but also because JJ had started to become suspicious that something was up when Emily seemed always too eager to go home after work. JJ had expressed some concerns at first about the wisdom of such a relationship and how it would affect team dynamic, but after realizing that it had been going on for a couple of months and nothing had changed, she was happy and thrilled for her two friends.

Now thinking back to her day in court, Emily quickly shook her head in response to Hotch's question. "Oh no, nothing like that." It had worried them a little that their secret relationship might actually affect their credibility as expert-witnesses in court, but fortunately, nothing like that had happened as of yet. Apparently they were doing a good job of being discrete.

"Then what?"

Emily hesitated. They had learned to be very straightforward and direct with each other, but for some reason she was reluctant to share that particular piece of herself. He would understand if she told him, she knew he would, but in a way she was still a little afraid. She was afraid that this particular feeling would make her appear weak or vulnerable to his eyes. And she wouldn't be able to bear seeing that expression in his eyes.

She looked up and met his gaze, ready to deny that something was wrong, but he was looking at her with such tender concern, that her doubts were immediately pushed aside. She trusted him with her life, maybe it was time she trusted him with her heart too.

She shook her head a little, trying to deflect some of it. "It's silly…"

He raised his chin, silently encouraging her to say more.

She sighed. "Technically, everything went fine. I made my case, presented the evidence like I've done dozens of time in the past, I was able to remain convincing through the cross-examination…"

"But?"

Emily looked into his eyes. "But… even after all this time, _he _still gets to me, and it makes me feel… I don't know, he makes me question myself."

"Norland?" he asked, something fierce flashing in his expression for a second. Then it was gone.

She frowned as she nodded. "Seeing him just sitting there today in court, looking at me with that expression so full of... hatred, fully aware that he still has some kind of power over me… It just brought back some of those anxieties, you know?" She shook her head. "I thought I was done with it all. I thought it was all behind me."

Hotch stepped closer and closed his fingers around hers, squeezing a little.

"But anyways, I'd rather not talk about it anymore. How about we move to the living room and make out?" She was being flippant, but he didn't take the bait.

"Okay, but let me just say this first," he replied without losing a beat, looking intensely into her eyes. "Steven Norland has stopped thinking that he could ever have some kind of power over you a long time ago. You've shown him time and again that you're not afraid of him, that he has no hold over you. You were called to the stand at his trial as an expert-witness, not as one of his victims. He looks at you that way because he knows he'll never be able to make you flinch. You're unreachable to him."

Emily nodded at his words, amazed that he always knew what to say to make her feel better. She watched with awe as he stepped closer still and brought his hands up to push her hair away from her face gently. He left his hands there, on each side of her neck and face, his thumbs slowly caressing her cheeks. "And you're amazing to me," he added on a breath as he closed the short gap between them and kissed her. Softly and tenderly at first, as if he was trying to demonstrate his admiration and amazement, and though Emily enjoyed it thoroughly, she quickly upped the pace and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He happily responded, moving one of his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. Emily moaned contentedly at the contact and she felt him smile against her skin as his lips moved from her lips to her neck.

Even after all those months, she still found herself bewildered that this was real, that before this whole case she had never imagined Aaron Hotchner as the perfect match for her. How could it be, when they were now so attuned to each other? How could she not have recognized it for so long?

Oh the past few months hadn't been easy, and in some ways it wasn't easy still. It had taken a lot of adjustments at work and compromises in their personal habits to make their relationship work. They had agreed to some basic rules, such as not to pair up together on cases, to sleep apart when they were staying in hotels while on the job, but they had been so intent at first on hiding and avoiding any kind of physical contact, that even Reid had noticed the tension. They had blamed it on that particular case they were working on at the time and how it was affecting all of them, but it had taken a while to find a balance that suited them both and didn't negatively impact their focus.

That had been particularly difficult after those first, intense and wonderful nights they had spent together that summer, but they had managed to find ways to deal with the knowledge they now had of what it was like to be intimate with each other. Usually it meant avoiding being in the same room together for a long period of time. But as time went on and they became more at ease both with each other and with their relationship, all of that time tiptoeing around and misstepping seemed to have brought them closer together somehow. Even those few months of Jack's angry phase at seeing his father with another woman, though extremely taxing for all three of them, had brought them all closer. It turned out that fate, or whatever power there was out there, had found a way for them to find each other and actually make it work.

"You really were serious about making out," Hotch drawled playfully against the skin of her collarbone as he walked her backward until her back hit the kitchen counter.

Emily chuckled as she tugged his shirt from his pants. "You know I'm always serious about that."

"Hm-mm," was his mumbled, amused reply, as his hands slid under her sweater to caress the skin of her waist and back, making her shiver. "What about dinner?" he asked as his fingers teased a particularly sensitive spot.

"Overrated," she gasped, making him chuckle softly against her skin.

He pulled back from her slightly, smiling, but his eyes dark and earnest, as his hand slid to hers and he started walking backward, pulling her with him in a silent invitation.

Emily smiled, returning his loving gaze.

It struck her that in all of their time together, they had never ascribed a name to what they were feeling for each other, never really mentioning the scary L word. And it had never bothered her, just because showing instead of talking was more like _them_. She had even suspected that Hotch was afraid that if he said the words, it would scare her away. It was sweet, in a way, but as she held his gaze now, she suddenly felt a rush of emotions that she couldn't quite contain.

She stopped his backward movement and gazed at him in earnest. "You know I love you, right?"

He looked surprised for a second, his lips pursing together and his eyebrows raised, and suddenly Emily was afraid that she had scared _him_ off. But then he exhaled and tugged on her hand to pull her closer again, his smile returning to his lips.

"Good," he said simply.

"Good?" Emily repeated incredulously, pulling back slightly. "That's your reply?"

His smile turned amused at her reaction and he leaned in close again, his fingers softly touching her cheeks. "Only part of it."

And then he kissed her again, his love for her spoken on a breath every time he had a chance.

* * *

"And if you have

Another dream in which you drown love

I'll go to sleep and track you down

We'll sink together in the sea

Comfortably sweet"

- Comfortably Sweet by Steven Bowers (Feat. Christina Martin)

The END

One final comment: this story was mostly about the "chase" part of the romance, which is why I decided to go with an epilogue rather than writing the "what happens after." The problems they had to go through in the aftermath (at work and with Jack) could have made a whole new story, but at the moment I'm not ready to write it in more details. But who knows, maybe I'll put it down on paper eventually :-) Oh and with regards to the team knowing about the relationship, I like to think Hotch and Emily weren't as good as they thought in hiding it and that the rest of the team all figured it out pretty quickly, but just kept it to themselves. Maybe following a speech from Dave regarding team unity or something like that ;-)

Thank you for reading!

Amalgam000


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